Lost Memories
by Anlynne
Summary: The war is the last memory Hermione has, but when she wakes she finds that her world has been different for a long time.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Falling Boulders

The walls of Hogwarts were crumbling, the stones breaking, people screaming, people dying. Blood, and dust were everywhere, the building, or what was left of it reeked with it. The school she spent so many years in was falling apart around her, breaking much like her heart. This was her secondary home, and they were losing it, slowly, but surely.

Hermione Granger ran with her two best friends Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. They jumped over bodies, and rocks, the ground quaking beneath them keeping them unsteady. She tried to drown out everything around her. She wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare. She wondered who was on the ground for she refused to look in fear of who she might see.

Fred Weasley was dead. She knew that much. He laid on the ground, eyes open, a last smile playing on his lips. It was a shock - a kick to her gut. She wanted to shake him, scold him, yell, and hit, but all she did was stare until Harry pulled her, and Ron away. They had to keep going. They had to keep fighting. They would fight forever, it was never-ending. They had virtually been fighting for seven long years. They've been on the run, they watched people die, and they stayed together.

They were called the Golden Trio. They were everyone's saviors in this war. Harry, the skinny, raven-haired young wizard with a lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead was everyone's shining star on the blackest night. He was their hero. Ron, the sweet lanky, red-head she loved since she was young. And herself, the bookworm, stayed by his side through it all, since they were eleven, since their first year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft, and Wizardry. They were best friends from the start. Well... Sort of. It took a good month for her to grow on the two boys, and when she did they were together like cement, especially the last year living in a tent on the run searching for split pieces of Voldemort's soul called Horcruxes.

Hermione wanted to shower, eat, and sleep without the fear of being attacked, and murdered. She wanted to see her parents. She missed them. It took every bit of willpower she had to alter their memories, give them new names, and origins to keep them safe. She wanted to go home, and know that she was too. She wanted her childhood back. She never said any of this of course. She wouldn't complain, they had bigger problems to worry about. She could only imagine what Harry, and Ron were going through. Harry worried over them mercilessly. He would quite possibly die of guilt if anything happened to them because of his fate. Ron was not used to being without his family, without three square meals, or more a day. They were much thinner now, their torn clothing hanging off their bodies. They got a taste of Harry's life for the first time in their lives. She couldn't say she liked it, and that's why she didn't complain.

Everyday she hoped that they would make it. It was her greatest wish to live through it. For all of them to. She finally got her kiss. She had wanted to kiss Ron since she was fourteen, and she finally did in the Room of Requirement not even an hour ago. His concern for the houselves touched her deeply. After all those years of telling him how horrible it was to keep them as slaves he understood, he had listened. It was all she ever wanted from him, so she kissed him, and he kissed her back. They had to live through it. She wanted to live, but more importantly she wanted to live with him at her side.

Suddenly they stopped in the corridor, Ron, and Hermione colliding into Harry's back, and soon she found out why.

"Ginny, get back," Harry bellowed at Ron's sister.

Ginny, her friend, and Harry's girlfriend was fighting out one of the broken windows down at unsuspecting deatheaters below. She gave him one quick, but lethal glance. "Do what you have to, Harry."

"I told you to stay in that room! Ginny, I'm not telling you again!"

"Good!"

"Do as he says," Ron ordered, forgetting momentarily that he was never able to tell his little sister what to do. She was too independent, too fiery, and when she wanted to be, too scary.

"Bugger off Ron! I'm not opposed to hexing _you_!"

Hermione switched feet nervously, spells going off around them. They could be hit at any moment, and they were wasting time. "Let's go," Hermione pleaded. "Harry, what do we have to do next - "

"Ginny!"

Hermione stopped at the sound of Ron's strangled scream. She spun around, her dirty brown hair flying in her face. Ginny was thrown off her feet by a great falling rock. It had collided with her shoulder, and she was bleeding, red soaking her black robe, but wasn't crying. She was holding her wound, writhing on the floor, her vivid hair splayed out on the pebbles, and dirt. They knelt next to her, and she screamed.

"Go! Please, go! I want this to end! Harry, do what you need to make this war end!"

"I'm trying," he argued back. "Lets get you to the Great Hall first." He held out his hand to help her up, but she swatted it away.

"I can get up myself. I don't need to go there."

The Great Hall was where they were sending them fallen, and the injured. Hermione went to talk sense into her, watching the blood flow freely down her arm, but Ron beat her to it.

"Gin, are you mad? You're bleeding!"

"Always one for the obvious," she spat, pushing herself off the floor, Harry's hand jerking to help, but keeping a safe distance in case she decided to bat at him a second time.

Slowly they stood up with her, and Hermione had the inexplicable feeling that they were being watched closely. That's when she saw Bellatrix staring back at them maliciously from out of the corner of her eye. The woman with wild hair, dead eyes, was Voldemort's right hand. She tortured Neville's parents into insanity, killed Sirius Black (Harry's godfather), Ron's uncles, and who knew how many others. She was raising her wand, and she panicked.

"Ron!" She grabbed his large hand, and as he spotted Bellatrix pulled her towards him, behind him to safety. She tried to fight with him, her wand in her grip, but he refused to let her pass. "Ron," she cried only to be pushed back again.

A small boulder fell from the shaking ceiling, and Hermione felt her head splitting. It felt wet, and she knew that her hair was being matted with blood. She heard her friend's screams, saw a blinding green light. She yelled, or she thought she did, she wasn't sure. She tried to keep her eyes open to see who was hit. Who was killed. Was it her? Would she ever know? _Please don't let it be them. Please..._ Everything died away in a haze.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Name Is Granger

White. White ceiling, walls, and floor. It hurt her eyes. It was too bright. The smell of numerous potions sickened her, making her stomach turn. She was dizzy. Where was she? It looked like the wizarding hospital St. Mungo's, and she was wearing a gown similar to the ones they gave patients. How was that possible, she was just in Hogwarts. She was fighting in a war. The war...

Hermione bolted up, the sheet pooling at her waist. A plump nurse in a blue robe rushed over. There was a patch on her chest with a crossed wand, and bone, the trademark of St. Mungo's.

"Mrs. Potter, you must relax, you took quite a hit."

Hermione felt nauseous, and let the witch push her back on the bed. "My name is Granger."

"Granger?"

"G-r-a-n-g-e-r," she spelled out, not to be a nuisance, but because she sincerely thought the Healer had been confused.

"It says here that it's Potter."

"Potter..." Hermione scrunched her brows thinking hard. "That's my friend's name. Harry Potter... Is he okay?" She instantly felt panicked.

The woman looked curiously at her. "Your husband's just fine."

"Husband? He's not my husband."

She bent low looking into her eyes. "What year is it?"

"Nineteen-ninety-eight."

She looked worried. "Oh, dear. No, it's two-thousand-one."

"That can't be."

"Wait here."

Hermione opened her mouth to suggest another Healer, preferably one that knew the year, but she was out the door before she could ask. It was then that she realized she was in a private room. There were no other patients with her, no other beds. If she had sustained an injury during the battle, and was placed here after it was over it didn't answer why she was there. There had to be others, they had to be near full, and even Arthur Weasley didn't receive a private room, at least not for long when he was bitten by Voldemort's snake Nagini. None of it made sense.

Fifteen minutes had passed when the Healer stepped back in, this time with an older man at her side, someone that resembled -

"Harry," she cried. "Oh, it's so good to see you! What's happened, why am I here?"

Harry approached her bed quickly taking her hand. He looked at her oddly, and she saw that those glasses weren't the ones he had on earlier ago, these were black rimmed, more expensive looking. His clothes didn't look worn, or torn. They fit him, unlike many of the old clothes he had brought along from the Dursley's as back up.

"Hermione," he started off carefully, "what year is it?"

"It's nineteen-ninety-eight. I just told that to her. What's going on?"

He ignored her pleas. "What do you remember last?"

"The war," she said matter-of-factly. "I was hit by a rock, or something... I saw a green light..." It struck her horridly. Fear, and knowing. Something was wrong. Something horrible happened. "Oh, Harry, who was it?" She felt tears brim her eyes. "Where's Ron? Where's Ginny?" She begged him silently to tell her that they were in the waiting room, or at least being treated in the room next to hers. Anything but what she knew he was going to tell her.

Harry bit his lip, and sighed. "I - I'm sorry..."

She shook her head violently, but it hurt, and so she stopped. "No," her voice broke. "No!"  
"Hermione -"

"NO! THEY'RE NOT DEAD!"

"It's been four years -"

"NO!" She grasped the bars of her hospital bed as hot tears ran down her cheeks, "no," she whispered, "no, please, don't let it be true, no. I just saw them!"

Harry reached out, and held her. There was something different about it. It was uncomfortable the way he pulled her close, his chest tightly against hers, the way he stroked her hair. Harry never did that. She pushed away from him, afraid.

"Who are you?"  
"You know who I am!" He was nearly crying himself, looking to the Healer desperately for help.

"She's gone back to the most tragic time in her life. This happens -"

Hermione cut through the words of the Healer. "You've never hugged me like that! Who are you? Are you under the Imperius Curse? Who in the hell are you?" Hermione wasn't one for cursing, but this was one time that called for it. She wanted to know what was going on, why was everyone acting crazy?

He rattled, "I'm Harry James Potter. We met on the Hogwarts Express where you were looking for Neville's missing toad Trevor. You told Ron he had dirt on his nose."

She was satisfied knowing that was him, for only Harry would know those things aside from Ron. "Where's Ron, and Ginny? Where are they, Harry?"

"Please, Hermione... Don't make me say it..."

"I need you to say it!"

"They're dead... They've been dead for four years..."

"It's not true!"

"Do you not remember that night?" He clutched the bars of her bed his knuckles turning white, as if it was the only thing holding him up, or keeping him from falling apart. "Bellatrix showed up, Ron shoved you back, and yes - you're right - you were hit by a boulder, and knocked out cold. He was killed... Him, and Ginny both." The muscles in his neck, and arms tightened like he was fighting back a monster that was threatening to erupt in him.

"Bellatrix..." She let her sentence trail off.

He understood her silent question. "Molly was there, she killed her."

"You - You survived!" Her tone was almost accusatory, and his face contorted in physical pain as if she had cast crucio on him.

"Yes, I survived," he answered bitterly. "That tends to be a curse all on its own..."

"I didn't mean it like that, it's just... You survived, why didn't they...?" For some reason she thought if any of them were to die it would be Harry. It was a horrible thought, and she mentally kicked herself for thinking it, but after all the close calls he had, who would have thought. It almost didn't seem fair, and she kicked herself again, partially because of that thought, and partially because Harry was her friend. She was supposed to be happy that he lived, but she couldn't. There was too much grief overriding it.

"Like Ron did with you, Ginny did with me."

"Ginny..." She gritted her teeth thinking of her spirited friend. "Ron..." Her love. Her first, and only love. She cursed them, she cursed herself.

"I know... I know, love."

"Love," she spat shocked. It sounded so foreign, but he said it with such conviction as if he said it a million times. "What're you talking about?"

Harry moved a hand towards her, but she flinched, and he straightened. "We're married," he said obviously. "We've been married for a year now..."

"No," she stated harshly. "I would never marry you!"

He took a step back as if she had physically pushed him. His lips formed a thin line, and then he left slamming the door behind him. The noise was loud, and it echoed in the room. In her ears.

She regretted what she said immediately, but it was true. She would never marry her best friend. Ron was who she was supposed to be with. It was always like that. She wanted him. She needed him. Harry was lying, but why? He wouldn't lie, not if he saw it was necessary. There couldn't be a reason for one such as this. He would tell her. If it was important she would go along with it.

Hermione brought her left hand to view, and saw a white gold wedding band, and a solitaire engagement ring. She touched it, to be sure it was real. It was warm with her heat, glittering, and real. She bawled then, bringing her knees to her chest ignoring the comforting words of the Healer, and the potion she was trying uselessly to make her take. She wasn't listening to her. She already knew that no potion in the world would make her feel better.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

An Open Wound

The Healer told Harry to let her go through with her usual routine, but do not under any circumstance let her return to work. Hermione didn't know what good it did telling him that. For one thing he wouldn't let her of his own accord, and two she had _ask_ what she did for a living. Turned out she worked at the Ministry as a lawyer. She remembered laughing at the late, dunder-headed minister for suggesting that she would choose such a career, but it seemed as if she did. She worked defending magical creatures. That sounded like her, and she took comfort in that not everything had changed.

The next day Harry followed the Healer's instructions, and left for work taking the bus. Something he did when he needed to think about things, mostly his career, and the wizards he was trying to track. He worked as an Auror, something he had been wanting to be since his fifth year in Hogwarts or so. She was very proud of him when she heard about it, but he was very hesitant to leave, and she practically had to shove him out the door.

Hermione wandered through the house most of the morning trying to recall some speck of her life. The wedding bands felt odd, yet familiar on her finger, and she ran her thumb over them many times throughout her search of the house never quite believing that they were there.

She approved of the house very much. She loved it in fact, but she didn't know how she could expect less when they supposedly picked it out together. A thin strip of concrete pathway led to the front stained glass door of the two story gray house.

There was the lounge, with a flat screen television, a velvet blue couch, cherry furniture, the walls an eggshell white. Over the couch were moving pictures. She avoided them. She didn't want to know what they held, not yet.

Through an archway there was the kitchen, white tile floor, and counters, with an island. She didn't have to inquire to know that she never cooked in there, because she _never_ cooked. She burnt everything, it was a natural complaint when they were searching for Horcruxes. Even if she found the most delectable ingredients Ron would still have complained, and Harry would still have made that disgusted face. She had to hand it to him that he forced down whatever she put in front of him, but it was only because they would starve if they didn't. She suppose Harry had gotten back into it again.

Upstairs, the first door on the right was their bedroom with a grand bathroom that included a circular tub, all decked in deep green, but for the longest time she stood in front of the bed. Last night was spent at the hospital, and she hadn't had the chance to experience what it felt like, but she didn't move to find out. She didn't want to imagine the things that occurred there. She shuddered when it crept into her mind, and she quickly strolled across the hallway.

She was in the study where there was more cherry furniture, a whole wall of bookcases with some very old books that a few Hermione recognized, one of them being the book that Dumbledore, their late headmaster left to her in the will. She wanted to sit down, and devour each, and every one of them, but she refrained herself. There was a couple of more rooms to explore. She would come back later.

The next room gave her a start for it contained a small bed, a rocker, and many stuffed toys. Her heart jumped in her throat, and then settled when she read the blue bubbled letters spelling out "Teddy," on the wall above the bed. It was Teddy, his godson's room. Relief spread through her. Such relief that she didn't feel the need to explore any more of the house.

She went back to the study, pulling a random book off a shelf, and sat down on the couch identical to the one in the lounge. She pulled her bare feet under her, and opened the front cover. The bindings cracked as if it never been opened before. She held her breath as she read the untidy scrawl in front of her.

_To: Hermione_

_From: Ron_

_Happy seventeenth. My past presents to you have been poorly thought-out, but here's something I'm sure you'll love. A second edition of Hogwarts, A History, and no, I haven't read it._

Hermione brushed her fingertips over his handwriting. She was shaking something terrible. It could have been the very last thing he wrote, because Ron rarely wrote anything. As if she could conjure him she touched the words - each individual letter, as if it could somehow bring them closer.

"Molly kept it for him for a year. He saved up every knut he had, and bought it before we left..."

Hermione jerked her head towards the door to see a blurred Harry standing there forlorn. He shrugged his shoulders taking a seat beside her. He went to touch her, but placed his hand back down on his knee. "Couldn't stay at the ministry," he explained. "Had to see if you were all right."

She closed the cover, fingering the gold lettering on the front without responding. She could only imagine how much the book cost. She sniffed holding the book to her chest before going over to the bookcase, and setting it gingerly back in its place. Behind her she heard shuffling movements soon feeling heat at her back. It was too close for comfort, and she turned around to push him back, but was stopped when she saw what he was holding, a small purple vial.

"The Healer asked me to give this to you. It helps with stress."

"I don't need that."

"I think you do."

"Go away, Harry," she went to move past him, but he held out his arm stopping her, his Quidditch reflexes still there.

In a seconds thought she snatched the potion from him throwing it to the far wall. It crashed, the glass shattered to smaller pieces across the floor, surrounding them, the neon maroon liquid spilling onto the wooden floor like fresh blood. She didn't want anything to take away the pain she was feeling. She survived, she deserved what she felt. It wasn't fair that she lived while they died. She was angry, and the pain that coursed through her veins like poison felt like the only real thing she had left of them.

Harry didn't seem to be surprised by this action. He looked on sadly, and she wanted to smack that expression off his face. He shouldn't be understanding. Not to her. He was passed the guilt - the hatred of himself, and now he was standing there showing that to her. It wasn't fair. None of it was. Instead of smacking him she screamed.

"Stop it! Will you just stop it!" She felt her knees give out beneath her, and Harry leapt forward catching her in his amazingly strong arms. She fell against his chest, and heaved as the tears poured. Already she was sick of her face being wet.

"You'll get through this," he whispered, "you did once, you'll do it again. You're strong, Hermione. You were always the strongest."

"I want them back..."

"I do too..."

It was an open wound. It festered, and bled, and drained her. Soon it would become numb, or maybe it was wishful thinking. She would rather die than feel the pain she was feeling. She didn't care to be healed, she wanted to disappear - to be forgotten. She wanted a time-turner so she could go back, and save her love, and her friend. She would do anything.

Harry lowered her to the floor. She curled protectively in a ball as he pressed his chest to her back forming himself to her curves, keeping her in his arms. She thought shortly of shoving him away from her, but it felt too nice. She might as well have been drowning, but he kept her there, steady, and sure. Harry would never let her drown, even when she wanted it more than anything.

"Where are my parents," she asked. Between the fight at St. Mungo's, and the shock of coming back "home," she didn't have the chance to ask him. Part of her didn't want to know, but she felt the answer. It was in her gut. Her parents were dead, and Harry answered her by holding her even tighter, her airway constricted. "How," she croaked.

"It was an accident. The Australian officials tried to bring their memory back... The man was new - it was his first day on the job - he was scared - "

"Harry... Don't say anything else... Please..." It hurt too much. She was losing everyone in a blink of an eye. She was alone.

For an hour they laid in a heap on the floor, Harry holding her wracking body. She let him. She needed someone. Someone to keep her breathing, and there could be no one better than her best friend. Not when everyone else was gone. In terrible recognition she knew what he must have gone through, what he was still going through.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Ginny... You love her."

He ran his hand over her arm softly. "I did, yes. I know you don't believe this - it's hard for you, I understand, but I love you now. We did fall in love, Hermione."

"I loved you?"

"...Before your incident... You did. I know you don't now..."

She avoided answering. "Why am I like this? How did it happen?" She shivered as he breathed into her ear, his lips grazing her lobe.

"Teddy left his toy broomstick by the stairs. You tripped, and fell."

She knew the answer, but she asked anyway. "Will I ever remember?"

"One day..."

It didn't make her feel the way she thought it would. She thought she would feel happy to be able to remember her life, but she wasn't. If she remembered it would make it all real. She really would be married to Harry, and everyone else really would be dead. She would rather wake up in the Great Hall amidst the war than for this dream to be true.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

A Visitor

Harry was a good husband. She never doubted that fact, but never in her wildest dreams would think she would see it firsthand. While she was uncomfortable sharing a bed with him, he slept on the couch in the study. Close enough to hear her if she needed him, but far enough away to let her sleep. Unfortunately she didn't sleep well, and he knew this by the bags under her doe eyes. He recommended potions, but she declined. Like the pain she was suffering, she would suffer insomnia too. If she had any luck she would die of exhaustion.

Hermione had the day mapped out. She would stay in the study reading. She would attempt to read half a bookshelf by the time Harry got back from work. It was a suitable goal. That is until the doorbell rung.

Wand securely in her pocket she crept downstairs, and peeked out the side of one of the heavy drapes. A stout red-headed woman stood on the doorstep with a plateful of food that Hermione couldn't make out. She blinked back tears, and opened the door greeting Molly Weasley.

Her breath was knocked out of her as she tugged her into a one-arm hug. She felt her airways constricted once more, and breathed properly when she was let go. She found that there were tears in Molly's brown eyes too.

"Oh Hermione, dear it's so good to see you. How're you feeling?"

Hermione half-smiled, and said politely, and forcefully, "good."

"There's no need to tell false truths."

She opened the door further, "come on in," she said walking her to the kitchen.

"This is for you, black pudding. I know Harry's a fine cook, but I thought I'd take a little load off of you two."

Hermione took the dish, and sat it in the fridge while Mrs. Weasley sat at the island. She joined her wringing her hands nervously in her lap.

"I expect Harry told you everything?"

"I guess so..."

"Good, then you can start healing again."

Before she could stop herself she huffed indignantly. Thinking that while she already had a shocked expression from her she might as well continue. "I don't think that I'll ever heal."

She sighed heavily. "I know that I didn't."

She took in her appearance noticing that she looked much older than she did before the war. Gray streaked her hair, and her skin was pallid. "It doesn't get easier?"

"You come to accept it. You have, and you will again."

"That's what Harry said."

"He's right; he should know. You two loved Ginny, and Ron very much." Her voice strained to remain steady. "They loved you too. They wouldn't want us wallowing in misery. They gave their lives for us."

Hermione felt twinges of guilt, and then anger that she should feel such an emotion. She didn't ask to be saved, it was their fault she was alive. At that thought guilt washed over her once more. She felt like crying, but blinked them back. She was going to drown herself in her tears, but she wouldn't fuss if that happened.

"They would be so happy for you two."

"Why did we marry each other, Mrs. Weasley? It was never like that between us."

The mother-figure considered her silently for a minute. "When you two lost your first loves you leaned on each other. Harry is the only person who kept you from falling, and vice versa."

"Tell me this is a nightmare. Tell me I'll wake up."

A single tear slid down Mrs. Weasley's cheek. "I'm afraid you won't, but please, keep in mind you haven't lost everything."

Hermione knew that she was speaking from what she once felt, but she didn't care. She shook her head. "Yes, I have, I have nothing... I don't have m-my p-parents, or, R-Ron..."

"You have Harry, you have all of us. You're still family, Hermione - you're my daughter, and Harry's my son. We all have one another. It's a blessing that we made it through."

She collapsed against the island, and Mrs. Weasley stood to let her lean on her. Mrs. Weasley was always a secondary mother, and more than anything else she needed one. She needed fall on someone, someone that didn't insist that they were in love.

"I d-don't love him... How c-could I? Ron -"

"Would want you to be happy."

"It w-was his f-fear that this w-would happen! Riddle's g-ghost..."

"He feared that you would choose Harry over him, and you didn't, you chose Ron, remember?"

Hermione blubbered, "I w-wish I c-could," speaking of remembering. "I w-want to r-remember. Something n-not so h-horrid."

"Have you seen the pictures," she asked conversationally.

"I can't."

"Sure you can, dear. They're in the lounge. Come, I'll show you."

"No! I can't look at them! It'll make it real..." She saw her crestfallen face. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley -"

"Don't be, I think you're handling this remarkably."

"Who else died?"

"I don't think -"

"Please, Mrs. Weasley! I have to know! Please..."

"Lupin, and Tonks, Snape, Colin, Fred, Ginny, and Ron, and about fifty others."

Hermione clutched Mrs. Weasley's apron like a child would to their favorite toy as her body shook with violent tears that wouldn't stop. She smelled like flour, and other bake goods. She smelled like a mother. Her own mother.

Consumed in her own grief she didn't hear the door behind her open, or felt the jerky movements Mrs. Weasley made to motion at Harry to leave for a minute. After Hermione gathered herself Mrs. Weasley said that she had to tend to feeding the rest of the family, and Hermione saw her out the door thanking her once more.

She sat at the island again as Harry came in through the door leading to the backyard, acting very well like it was his first time that day. He explained that he took the muggle bus. She barely heard it.

"Fifty," she asked quietly to him.

He stiffened. "Yes." His voice was hard, and cold. It didn't suit him, but Hermione could only focus on the number while he threw off his cloak hanging it on the back of the chair across from her. He sat himself in it, his elbows digging into the counter. "You don't remember what happened when I heard that number?"

"No... I don't remember _anything._" She stared down, wringing her hands angrily, but he ignored this.

"I locked myself up for days. You set up a camp bed outside of my door waiting for me to come out. You forced me to eat. You talked to me, even though I didn't talk to you."

"What made you come out?"

"You. You said, 'Harry, it's not your fault. It was a choice they made - the choice not to only help you, but to help themselves, and the future that was at stake. No one blames you - you blame yourself. We love you.' That's when I came out."

"And?"

"And I kissed you."

She looked up from her hands into his lovely green eyes that oddly continually reminded her of fresh well-maintained grass. Her best friend. That was all he was. How could he be more? What changed? "That easy?"

"No... I felt guilty. We both did, but we knew they would want us to be happy."

"That's what Mrs. Weasley said -"

"And she's right. We made each other very happy." He glanced into the lounge. "Lets look at our pictures. You might remember something -"

"I don't want to look at those pictures, Harry! I don't want to remember!"

He looked hurt. "Why not?" It was clear he was trying to keep his tone steady, and low. It sounded more dangerous than it would have if he had yelled at her. It would be better if he yelled.

"It'll make it real!"

"Why don't you want that?"

"Because you're not the one I want!" Her head hurt like it was being squeezed in a vice. "I can't look at those pictures, and think of Ron! It was supposed to be him, not you!"

Harry stood up so fast the chair toppled over. He opened his mouth to say something, to yell, but he shut it, and stormed out. His trainers thundered up the steps. In the distance she heard a door slam.

She didn't want to hurt him. It was surreal that such a thing _was_ hurting him, but she was telling the truth. How could he love her? They were platonic. How could she have loved him? They weren't meant to be. Her heart ached for Ron.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The Pictures

Hermione avoided Harry for the rest of the day. She didn't go down to supper, and she refused to answer to Harry's calls, and knocks at her door. Even the persuasion that he made her favorite dish didn't tempt her. She stayed in her room curled up in bed. She fell asleep sometime after Harry left, and when she woke it was night. Her luminous clock read "2:00 A.M."

She crept out of bed still dressed from yesterday in jeans, and a violet sweater. She walked across the hall noting that the floorboards didn't creak like so many she knew did. She pushed open the door, and peeked her head into the study.

Harry was sprawled out on the couch, one leg rested on the floor below, and an arm above draped over the arm of the couch. The blanket laid half off of him, and Hermione picked it up from the floor to lay it across him properly. He stirred, and she froze her hands in mid-air hoping that he wouldn't wake. He didn't.

She sat on the floor next to him, her knees to her chest, her ankles crossed. She took a close look at his features something she had never done before. He was quite handsome. His lips were soft, slight scruff shadowing his jaw line, his fringe falling into closed eyes that hid what she knew to be a beautiful green. They weren't dark, but light, and bright. His arms showed a lot of thin white scars, the birth of many un-recalled. She had a few herself like that, but one she knew of vividly was on her neck.

Cautiously Hermione reached over, and traced one on his elbow. He moved, and she jumped back, but he didn't wake. She pressed her luck far enough, and standing from her uncomfortable position she closed the door quietly behind her leaning against it.

Bringing her hand to her face she stared at her ring. She was married. Married to Harry Potter. She was Hermione Potter. She grimaced. Was she really as happy as he made them out to be? How could she be happy with anyone other than Ron? Ron, and her fought a lot. All the time, but there was a reason behind them all. They were afraid of rejection from the person they loved the most, and she did love him, and she knew he loved her.

Hermione jogged down the staircase. She had to remember. She had to know if she was happy. She rested her knees on the couch in the lounge gazing up at the pictures that covered the wall. There had to be an answer in there.

The first wasn't that bad. She was there with Luna, Neville, and Harry at a table in a posh restaurant laughing. Neville, and Harry had their arms around her, and Luna who looked to the boys kindly. She wished she could remember what was so funny, but even if she did get her memory back she might not know. She couldn't remember every happy thing, especially the ones that she laughed so hard at.

The next was a bit harder to swallow. Harry, and her stood outside of their house snogging, Harry holding a 'for sale,' sign. It was easy enough to deduct that that's when they bought their home.

The one beside it showed Teddy sitting on Hermione's lap as Harry tickled him. It looked like a family photo. She cringed at that, but wondered against her better judgment if the prospect of children ever came up between them. Looking at that photo she had a hard time thinking that it didn't.

The next was at the burrow in the kitchen. This one made her chuckle. There was all the Weasley's minus Fred, and Ron. They were all sitting at the large rickety table except Mrs. Weasley who stood with a frying pan of eggs. They were all smiling. George didn't look as well, his face pale, but there was a small laughter in his eyes, and she saw the reason why on Percy's plate where a beetle was scurrying across. The ones who had the biggest grins were the ones that made her stomach do back flips. It was her, and Harry. She was leaning into his arms, and they looked so... Happy.

She moved on to the one after. It jolted her terribly. It was taken at the burrow. Harry got down on one knee, her hands in his, and she saw a sparkling ring, and she was nodding - beaming even.

Quickly she looked to the fifth, but it was even worse. Harry was in a black suit, and Hermione in a white wedding dress with long sheer sleeves, and a detailed veil to her waist. They were smiling again. She had to be acting, because she could never be so happy.

"We were... Happy that is..." Harry's voice said behind her.

Hermione didn't jump at his sudden appearance, or turn around. "Been studying legilmency?"

"I don't have to with you."

"You were asleep... I didn't wake you, did I?"

"After the war I didn't sleep. My first good nights rest was with you. You're my sleep aid so to speak."

She sighed staring at the pictures forgetting about everything but who was missing in them. "I don't want to live my life without him. I can't."

A low groan, almost a growl emitted from beind her. "You have, and are. Face it, he's dead!"

She spun around, and there was a resounding slap. Harry held his cheek where a bright red handprint was shining. Her hand stung. She slapped him. She gasped holding her mouth. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

He shook his head, "no, I am. I thought I could do this. I thought I could get you back, but I can't. I can't do this."

"Harry -"

"No," he bellowed. "You don't even _want_ to remember! I'm here while you're wishing Ron was! Isn't that good enough?!"

Fear struck her at their harsh words they exchanged. "Don't you care at all?"

"Of course I do! He was my best mate! It killed me when he died, but apparently not enough, because you wish I was the one who died. If I could go back, and trade places with him, I would. You would do it for Ginny, I know, but this is how things ended up, and I won't feel bad for it because I do love you. We can't trade our lives for theirs it's too late for it. You're the one who convinced me of that." He huffed, "I'm sorry you're having to get over this again, Hermione..."

"How could I get over it," she asked more to herself than him.

"You had to move on. We can't change the past even with a time-turner. We can't save everyone."

She stared at him for several long moments. In a fracture of a second she decided that she had to know what those pictures were about, so Hermione jumped forward throwing her arms around his neck, and kissed Harry hard on the mouth. She was desperate, she wanted answers, therefore she clung to him, and he held her back. It sent a swooping feeling through her. The feel of his soft lips, the light sweet scent of him, the feel of his bare skin under her. She concluded somewhere in her mind that he was half naked with only his boxers on.

It hit hard, their last day she remembered she was kissing Ron like that. It didn't feel like it was that long ago. It felt like she was cheating. She felt awful, but it wasn't the same. Harry was gentle, and Ron was needy. They were different, but had the same meaning behind it. They both loved her. Harry really did love her. She pushed back touching her lips thoughtfully. It wasn't supposed to feel like that.

Harry frowned. "You thought of him." Carelessly he waved her shock at his statement away. "I get it - I do."

"It's not that -"

"Yes, it is. It's exactly that. You don't love me, and it hurts me like hell."

The look on his face tore at her ruthlessly. She had to do damage control. "Harry, you're my best friend -"

"No, Hermione, I'm also your husband." He breathed hard his chest rising, and falling quickly, his rage ready to burst. "It's only been three days, and I'm thinking... Maybe you didn't love me in the first place. Maybe it was your way of coping..." He closed his eyes refusing to look at her. "I need my wife back."

She didn't wipe away her falling tears. She stood defiantly. "I know I loved you. I see it in those pictures, I felt it in that kiss, but..."

"But you still want him," Harry finished.

A/N: They're being very mean to each other, I know (of course). Harry's stressed, and we all know how mean he can get when he's upset. Hermione's in denial, and she's not exactly a peach all the time. This is not a feel-good story persay, but things will get better between them.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Lifeless Stones

For four days they didn't speak. Every time they passed each other in the hallway, or while he was out the door they would look at each other for a few long moments, before going their separate ways. It hurt her. It ate at her. Yet she did nothing to salvage it. Being in his presence only reminded her that they were married, and it made her desperately try to remember being married to him, but it sparked no memory. They were helplessly lost.

In those four days she had his routine down, and one morning she woke to pull on a breezy yellow sundress, her hair in a high ponytail. She apparated to where she knew they would keep them. In the Weasley graveyard.

She knew she had been there before loads of times though she didn't remember. It was like her feet knew the exact spot. She went there without thinking. She sunk her knees into the dirt. Above her were dark clouds, ions fresh in the air, the promise of rain. She hoped it would rain. It might wash away her pain, and she could feel something other than tears on her face. She stared at the siblings cold gray stones side by side, and her parents stones. Molly had explained to her yesterday they had buried them there, because they didn't have a plot made out, nor did they have a family graveyard like the Weasley's. The dirt covered in grass. Had it been that long that they were buried?

**Fred Gideon Weasley**

**1/4/1978 - 2/5/1998**

**Beloved Son, and Brother**

**Ronald Bilius Weasley**

**1/3/1980 - 2/5/1998**

**Beloved Son, and Brother**

**Ginerva Molly Weasley**

**11/8/1981 - 2/5/1998**

**Beloved Daughter, and Sister**

**Jean Faith Granger**

**8/7/1958 - 5/5/1998**

**A Wife, and Mother Loved**

**Charles Jacob Granger**

**3/18/1955 - 5/5/1998**

**A Husband, and Father Loved**

Hermione touched each of the stones. They were like ice sending shivers up her spine. They were gone. It was etched in black for eternity. It shouldn't have been so final, that breath shouldn't have been their last. They gave their lives for everyone.

"I'm so sorry... I should've drawn my wand. I should've been the one to go... Not you... Never you... Why did you have to go? It's not fair... I wish my last memory wasn't that day. I hate that green light. I hate the color green." She buried her head in her arms. "I need you here with me, Ron. I need to talk with you, Ginny. I need to someone to annoy me, Fred. I need you, mum, dad... I need you here with me now. It's not fair..."

Cold, wet drops fell onto her head, and back. Soon it was pouring soaking her clothes to her skin. She didn't move. She let it wash over her. She screamed into it, letting the thunder drown her. She let the pain stab her heart. She aimlessly wondered if everyone person that came here talked to lifeless stones. She found that she didn't care. All she cared about was dying here at the foot of her friends, and parents graves.

It was an hour until she stood. She was covered in mud, strands of her hair falling from its band sticking to her cheek. She walked out of the iron gate, and down the sidewalk. She walked all the way home, the whole five miles. Her legs were tense, and hurting when she stopped outside of her home. It was her home... There was no denying it now, no reason to call it "house."

The rain continued, and lightening struck miles away followed quickly by thunder. She saw through the sheets Harry, and George sitting on the porch carrying on what seemed to be a lively conversation. George hadn't changed much since his school days, he was still stocky, and short, though his hair had thinned resembling his father. There was a black hole where his ear should've been.

Then Harry spotted her, and immediately he was running towards her splashing puddles along the way. When he reached her he held her shoulders, and opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

"They're gone. They're really gone." She felt her voice crack.

He nodded. "They're gone," he contested

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he picked her up by her legs like he would a toddler, balancing her on his hips while she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He walked with her up to the porch, and in through the door that she guessed George held open, and up the stairs. He called back, "I'll see you later, George."

"Right, Harry... Is she okay?"

"No, but she will be."

Hermione didn't see where he took her until he sat her back to her feet. She saw that they were in their bathroom. She didn't move, or speak. She stood there like she was petrified, and she knew the feeling for she had been so in their second year at Hogwarts. Shock still coursed through her, and she immersed herself in it, still seeing her loved ones names. It had been familiar to her like a dredged up dream she had long ago. She didn't want it to be true, and now she had no choice. It was. They were dead.

Very gently Harry slipped her shirt off, his hands grazing her damp sides. He moved to the back, and unhooked her bra slipping the straps down to let it join her top. Unbuttoning her jeans he hooked his fingers in the waistline of her panties tugging them down. He took one ankle, and placed outside of them, and then did the same with the other. She was now completely undressed in front of her best friend, but she made no gesture to cover herself. She knew they had been naked in front of each other before, she didn't have to remember it to know. They were married, it was obvious, but it wasn't that knowledge that kept her from being modest. For one she was still seeing those gravestones. Another was that there was nothing sexual about it. It seemed like the most natural, caring thing in the world.

He turned the knobs of the tub, and the tap overhead started with steaming water. He picked her up, and set her vigintly in the tub. The hot water beat, and melted the ice from her body. Harry took a maroon cloth scrubbing it over a bar of soap, and began to wash her the scent of rose surrounding her. He squirted a large dab of shampoo in her hair massaging it into her scalp until it bubbled, and then rinsed running his fingers through it.

Scooping her up he walked her to the bedroom, drying her off with a fluffy towel, and dressed her in a long flowered nightgown that he took from the top drawer of the wardrobe. He brushed her hair, put her in bed drawing the covers over her, and turned off the light. She felt her eyes burn, and before he could leave she said, "stay."

Without question, or concern he crawled into bed behind her. She rolled over facing him, and snuggled against him. He held her lightly, but when she didn't pull away his grip tightened on her waist.

She whispered, "thank you..."

"Anytime, love. I'm here."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

For Keeps

Hermione's side was cold. There was a small draft from the open window. She turned, and saw that Harry wasn't there. She couldn't be sure what time it was. She woke up every ten minutes, and he was there.

She groaned, and got dressed in jeans, and a shirt, and then went down to the kitchen. Bent over the cooker was her friend.

"You're still here," she said surprised.

Harry glimpsed over his shoulder at her, and nodded, flipping the pancake. "I'm taking off work for the day." He then changed the subject before she could argue, "are you hungry?"

"Famished," she admitted.

"Tuck in, then."

Hermione sat at the counter while he sat a plate full of fluffy pancakes in front of her, and a bottle of syrup. She took the fork, and knife, and started cutting. He sat across from her, and she got a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. Is this the way it used to be? Did they sit here eating breakfast, talking, Harry with the Dailey Prophet that he had just picked up? It seemed so normal that she suspected it to be true. If it was then it wasn't so bad. She could deal with this. She could handle a life with him if it was as simple, and easy as that. At least they weren't in the tent with limited meals. In a second stabbing thought at least Ron had been with them.

Harry folded the paper along the creases setting it down next to his plate. "You must be getting bored around here, why don't you go out to see Luna? She's good with this kind of thing."

"What kind of thing?"

Suddenly he straightened, half shrugging his shoulders. He was being defensive.

"What kind of thing," she repeated.

"_This_, she's good at understanding people's feelings. She helped me when Sirius died..."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't want to see Luna. I don't want to see anyone. Why don't you go into work, Harry? I'll be fine here by myself. I want to be by myself, and you shouldn't be missing work."  
Harry stood, and dumped his dishes in the sink. "I'm just trying to help, Hermione."

She sighed, "I'm sorry... I just..."

"Admit it, you don't want your memory back."

"This again?"

He spun slamming his hands on the table, his head bowed. "admit it."

"Yes, and no... I don't want my last memory to be of them dying, but I don't want our memories either. How can I be happy?"

"Because we made it so."

"How?"

He strolled around the table cupping her face in his hands. He looked intently down at her inspecting the honey streaks in her eyes. "You don't have to question, and study everything. Let things be." He lowered his lips, and very softly brushed them against hers. She almost didn't feel it, but when then he was applying more pressure. She didn't move. It was so good it stuck her feet to the floor, it froze her, a warm feeling curling itself in her belly. She shouldn't love it so much. This was Harry of all people.

"You'll remember," he mumbled. "I promise you."

"What if I don't?"

"Don't say that -"

"Please, Harry..."

He shut his eyes as if in pain. "If I can't make you love me again... You won't let me keep you, will you?"

She couldn't stand the thought of causing him anymore pain. She couldn't remember being with him, but she knew it must have been real. He didn't deserve to feel these things. He didn't need any more sorrow. "I'll remember."

"Then come with me." He didn't want for an answer. He disapparated them.

Hermione felt herself being forced into a tunnel. She breathed when she felt her feet hit the ground. This time it was soft, and there was a cool breeze. There was a roaring in her ears, and when she opened her eyes she saw black. She had buried her head in Harry's chest. She backed away nervously, and looked around properly.

The scene stole her breath. They stood on a grassy bank next to a small waterfall that was pouring into a crystal clear river, the pebbles gleaming at the bottom. "Where are we," she asked astounded.

"Near the Burrow. I found it while flying outside boundaries." He saw the scolding look on her face, and added, "I wasn't caught, Hermione, I stayed above the clouds - Oh, honestly, we've broken more serious rules than that!"

"Are you saying I went along with it?" She was disbelieving, a hand on her hip, her brow raised said this clearly.

He smirked playfully. "Took some persuading, but I got you out here. This is where we fell in love."

Hermione smiled dropping her hand from her hip. "I bet anyone could fall in love here."

"I packed us a lunch, our bathing suits, and we made a day of it. You became interested in this rock you found at the bottom of the river. The color was Gryffindor's. You were so excited, and beautiful that I knew I loved you. You said you loved me for a long time. Sometime when you spent all those nights outside of my door after the war."

She kicked off her trainers, and sat on the ground, dipping her feet into the river, the current slow enough. She wriggled her toes, running them over the smooth pebbles stirring up the mud. Harry copied her actions, and sat next to her.

"You never did tell me... How did Voldemort die?"

He flicked a stone with his toe. "He tried to kill me with my own wand, and it rebounded."

"Did you know it would?"

"I had a good idea. I expected it. Tried to tell him not to - to give up, and find remorse. He didn't."

"A hero through, and through," Hermione winked at him. "I'm glad you won."

"We. I wasn't the only one in that war."

Hermione nodded. Fifty people, it still boggled her mind. She thought of what he said earlier. He had been through so much, lost so many friends, and family, it wasn't fair for him to lose his wife. Harry was strong, but how much could he take until he broke? "If I don't remember... You can keep me."

He exhaled loudly. "With, or without your memory, I love you. But I won't keep you when you can be happy elsewhere. It would be selfish of me."

"For once be selfish. I'll try to be your wife."

"Newsflash Hermione, you are."

"You know what I mean..." She checked her watch's face. It was like Dumbledore's with around twenty stars ticking their way across Roman numerals. "When did you call into work?"

"I called in yesterday."

"You planned this?"

"Not really... I didn't plan on coming here, or else I would have packed a lunch." He gave her a smile, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into him resting her head. It wasn't so bad. She could get used to this life. But like a curse she thought of her parents, Ron, and Ginny. Fred. She was smiling, and they were dead. What was wrong with her?

"Take me home, Harry."

"What's wrong?"

She pushed back, and stood, shoving her trainers back on. "Take me home, please," she insisted.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"They're dead!"

He nodded in understanding. "It's okay to be happy, Hermione. They wouldn't have it any other way." When she didn't respond he grabbed her arms whirling her around to face him. "What're you going to do? Are you going to mourn the rest of your life? If you do you won't be doing their sacrifice any justice, they'll have died without purpose."

Her hands lashed out. She pushed him, and he stumbled back shocked. "I feel guilty enough! You don't need to tell me about their sacrifice. It's my last memory, and it's forever burned into my eyes!"

"I'm sor -"

"Take me home."

Cautiously he took the last steps towards her to break their distance. He gave her one last fleeting look before he held her, apparating them back to their house. Home.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

A Day With Teddy

"I'm going to be late tonight. Are you sure this is okay, are you going to be all right," Harry asked her again.

Hermione rolled her sore eyes. Another night of waking up at thirty minute intervals. After that one night of sharing a bed Harry went back to the couch in the study. She missed his presence in their bed, but she thought it was for the best. That morning she felt the heavy weight of guilt lie on her stomach. Ron would've been up the wall upset if he knew. "It's _fine_, Harry. I told you it was."

"I don't want you to exert yourself."

"I've lost my memory, not my ability to look after a child."

"He can be quite a hand-full."

"Noted," she said shortly as he took one worried-fill glance at her, and grabbed his robe from the chair walking to the fireplace to floo to work. A day he wouldn't take the bus, especially since he wasted his time away nagging at her all morning.

She was actually looking forward to Teddy's visit. Hermione had purposely been avoiding seeing the Weasley's, Luna, and Neville, and anyone else who asked about her, because she didn't want their sympathy, or the headache she would get trying to remember her past experiences with them. It would be hard being there thinking of Ron, and Ginny. She didn't know how she ever stepped foot in the Burrow again, but Harry told her that she did, that it was in fact the place they went to stay after the war. It helped her. She wasn't sure it would this time, and she didn't want to find out. The thought of it was painful.

There was the knock she had been looking forward to. She sat the last clean dish in the cupboard, wiped her hands on the dishtowel, and went into the lounge to open the door. Andromeda Tonks stood there, and Hermione held a breath, her hand on her wand. Andromeda looked a lot like her sister Bellatrix, but with a second look she quickly realized her mistake, and let her hand fall from her wand. Andromeda had silky brown hair, compared to Bellatrix's black, and was kinder looking. She_ was_ kinder, but she looked like she needed a vacation as her hair contained some knots, her eyes puffy, and dark.

"Sorry, Mrs. Tonks."

"It's all right, how are you feeling?" She situated the four-year-old violet haired boy on her hip who with outstretched arms yelled, "Hermy!"

Hermione smiled. She hated that nickname, it reminded her strongly of Gwarp, Hagrid's half-brother, but coming from a child it wasn't so bad. She took him, sitting her on her hip like Andromeda had. "I'm feeling fine, thanks. Come on in."

"No, I can't. I have to be off. Narcissa is insisting that I meet with her -"

"Narcissa? Malfoy? Your sister?"

Her grin slipped. "Yes, my sister. We had a long talk after the war..." She stopped, and then started over. "That's why I can't watch Teddy today. I know Harry has to go into work; I'm sorry to be of disturbance to you."

"No, you're not. I'm glad that Teddy will be here. It's better than being lonely," she admitted.

Andromeda sighed, and gave another one of her kind smiles. "Then I best be off," she turned to her grandson, "goodbye Teddy, be good," she kissed his cheek.

Teddy nodded enthusasitcally. "Bye bye, nana."

After Andromeda had gone Hermione stood there awkwardly. Aside from the pictures on the walls this was the first time she had seen Teddy. Harry told her that he was with them three days a week, but Hermione didn't remember one. She saw that he had his mother Tonk's ability, he was a metamorphous changing his appearance at will. His hair was now a brilliant shade of teal. He had Lupin's chin, and Tonk's gray eyes.

"What shall we do," she asked the tot.

"Broomstick," he shouted.

"Broomstick it is then." She sat him down taking his hand, and leading him upstairs. They went into his room where Hermione knelt to open the toy chest at the foot of his bed. She shuffled through muggle toys like spinning tops, and plastic balls, and wizarding toys like miniature moving sets of hippogriffs, snitch's, and one an entire playfield of a Quidditch stadium. She finally found the broomstick. It was smaller than the one's used in Hogwarts, or the one that the professional's used. She did remember seeing something like it at her first international Quidditch match, a boy outside of a tent was riding one. They didn't go fast, Hermione could run faster than they could go.

They took it out to the backyard, and she sat on the bench watching him "zoom," his way back, and forth, his toes grazing the grass. "Watch me, Hermy!"

"I'm watching, Teddy," she assured thinking of how much Lupin, and Tonks would want to see this for themselves. They would be so proud of their son. She imagined that they were watching down on him. She liked to think that they all were.

"Hermy, look what I can do!" Teddy twirled around in slow circles.

"Wow," she faked shocked, "that's very good!" She looked up at the sky. It was high noon. She had to cook supper, and apparently her stomach agreed with her because just then it gave a loud grumble. "Teddy, are you hungry?"

"Yeah!"

"Lets go inside."

"Awww..."

"I'm not bringing it out here to you, Teddy Lupin, now come on. Tomorrow Harry will take you out on his Firebolt." She recognized the motherly tone in her voice.

"Really? Truly?"

"Yes," she promised watching Teddy jump from his broomstick. He handed it to her, and as she opened the door he ran inside. Harry was right, he was energized. "Wash up," she called placing the broomstick against the wall by the door as he bounded up the steps, she watched him carefully before going to the fridge, and then heard a scream. She ran back to the stairs, her heart thumping like mad when Teddy cried, "I okay!" She had been warned that he was clumsy like Tonks. While most kids would cry, it didn't seem to bother him. She went back to her rummaging, and saw a covered dish with a note stuck to it that read:

_This is for supper. Do not attempt to cook, just heat this._

"Thanks, Harry," she grinned widely, and took it out. She pointed her wand beneath it, and when she thought it was sufficiently heated enough, she placed it on the counter top, and divided the food onto two plates.

"All washed up, Hermy!"

"Great! Food's ready."

"Harry cooked?!" He almost looked worried.

"Yes, why?"

"I got a tummy-ache last time you cooked," he held his stomach for dramatic effect.

Hermione made a face at him, but quickly recovered. "Here you go then."

She spent most of the meal persuading him to stop talking, and to eat. By the end of it when she told him to go wash up she was thinking that it was too bad he didn't have a sibling. He desperately needed someone his own age. He wouldn't be ready to go to Hogwarts until he was eleven.

While Teddy played with his stuffed hippogriff, and snitch, she cleaned off the table, and washed the dishes. Every few minutes she would look into the lounge to be sure he was okay, though there was little need to, his voice carried through-out the house.

She watched him play, and checked the time. "Ready for bed?"

"Nooo," he whined.

"It's getting late. Lets go upstairs, and get you into your nightwear."

"I want to wait for Harry."

"No, it'll be much too late when he comes home. You'll see him in the morning."

"But I want to see him tonight."

She rubbed her forehead at the oncoming headache. "Stop whining, Teddy, and do as I say."

"Fine," he pouted gathering his toys in his arms.

She marched him upstairs, and got him to put his toys into the box, and dressed him in his nightwear. She was on her knees tucking him in when he said, "a story!"

Hermione bit her lip. "What story would you like to hear?"

"My favorite!"

She glanced back at the books lining the shelves. She had no idea which one was his favorite. She could guess, and let it come off that she was teasing him, but he interrupted before she could.

"The one where you meet those two boys on the Hogwarts Express!"

Her eyes teared up at this. He was talking about the first time she met Harry, and Ron. She didn't know how she usually told the story, but she began hopefully. "I was sharing a compartment with a boy -"

"Neville!"

"Yes, Neville, very good. I was sharing a compartment with him when he said -"

"I've lost my toad -"

"Are you going to tell this story, Teddy?"

"No, sorry, Hermy."

"Anyways, he said that he lost his pet toad Trevor. So he went down one way, and I went the other, and in one I met a boy with messy black hair, and glasses, and another one that was lanky with red hair, with a big, great, smudge on his nose." Teddy giggled at this, and figured she was telling it to his liking she continued. "This particular boy was trying to turn his pet rat yellow - horribly I'll add..." To the ending of the story when they were exiting the train, she saw that Teddy was asleep, and so was her legs.

Hermione leaned back picking up her numb legs placing them out in front of her as she leaned back on the floor. Without realizing it she fell asleep, and had no clue how long she had been when she was woken up by the very boy who had been in the story.

"Hi," Harry greeted staring at her for a few moments, when he nodded, no doubt wondering if she had gotten her memory back yet. He was dishearten. "How did today go?"

She wriggled her toes to see if she had any feeling back. She did, and she sat up. "He spent most of the afternoon on his toy broomstick, and before bed he was playing with his toys. Thanks for cooking supper by the way."

"Sure..."

"He asked me to tell him his favorite story..."

He raised a brow. "Really? Did you know...?"

"No, I was going to start guessing when he told me. The first time I met you, and Ron."

"I know, but what I don't know is how you ended up sleeping on the floor. He didn't need to be watched through the night."

"My legs were asleep."

He laughed quietly, and asked, "do you need help standing?"

"I think I do."

He hooked an arm under hers, and shakily brought her to her feet. He carried her out to the hallway where she stumbled falling further into him. Instinctively he wrapped an arm around her waist. She found that his face was close to hers, so close that she could count the flecks in his eyes. Light gray flecks she never knew were there before. His minty breath brushed across her cheek. There was a stirring inside of her, something unfamiliar in the presence of him.

He bent lower, his lips tingling on hers. She ran her fingers through his hair, running her nails down his neck gently. He pressed harder, and just as his tongue slipped between her lips -

"Ewww, that's gross."

Harry, and Hermione both jumped. He almost lost his grip on hers, but held tighter when he saw her slipping. "Get to bed," he fussed at Teddy angrily.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, now!"

Teddy sulked back into his bedroom his hair changing from hunter green to brown. He was muttering things that Hermione was glad that she didn't catch.

Harry went on carrying Hermione to the bedroom, lifting her on the bed pulling the covers around her. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Harry -" She started.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said curtly, leaving her alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

A Nightmare Not A Dream

She saw her. Bellatrix was raising her wand, a haunted smile playing on her gaunt face. Hermione should have reached for her wand, she was begging herself to, but she couldn't. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she get her wand, it was there, in her pocket. Why had she put it away? Oh, to help Ginny. She should get it, but she reached for Ron instead.

"Ron!"

He pushed her behind his back, to safety, but it wasn't safe, she knew what was going to happen. She tried to fight him, but her body wasn't obeying, it was on autopilot knowing how the story should end. It was happening again. Like last time. She couldn't let it happen again. "Please, no," she cried, but her mouth didn't move. "Ron, don't, no! She'll kill you! No! NO!"

The green light flashed, she felt her head split, her heart break, and everything went black. "NO! Ron! RON! GINNY! NO!"

"Hermione, wake up. Wake up it's only a dream."

Hermione bolted up in the bed, her face covered in a thin sheet of sweat. Harry was sitting beside her, his hand on her arm, worry etched in the lines of his young face. She sniffed, and leaned into him. "It happened again," she blubbered.

"It was only a dream."

"No, Harry, it was a nightmare." She clutched his shirt holding him close. She breathed in the scent of him. He smelled of wood polish. He must have been polishing his broomstick. It didn't smell half-bad, it wasn't strong like muggle ones, it didn't give her a headache, though her head was nearly pounding at the time.

Gently he laid her back down, and went to stand when she grasped his elbow, "no," she pleaded, "don't leave. Stay with me. I don't want to be alone tonight."

He nodded climbing over her careful to keep his body, and hers far apart, but when he laid beside her, she curled up around him. Her head rested on his shoulder, while her hand on his bare chest. He felt as scrawny as ever, but when his arm slinked over her waist she felt protected. She knew nothing - not even her nightmares could torment her now. Harry was with her. She hadn't lost everyone. That was her last thought before she fell into sleep again.

In the morning Hermione found Harry missing from her bed. She walked down in her worn jeans, and light gray t-shirt to see him, and Teddy in the lounge sitting at the coffee table with a chess board. Teddy pushed his knight to another knight, and screamed, "check mate!"

"You win again," Harry said in false disappointment. As Teddy set up the pieces in the squares, every one in the wrong place, Harry winked at her.

For the second time since she lost her memory she pondered about them having a family. Did he ever think about such things? Did they ever talk about it? She found herself thinking that he would make a great father, but was abruptly brought out of her daydream by a rap at the door, Andromeda soon poking her head inside.

"Nana," Teddy greeted jumping to his feet hugging his grandmother around the legs.

"You ready to go?"

"Yep!"

"Thanks for watching him, Hermione. I really appreciate it."

"It was a pleasure. He's a delight."

Once they left, she turned to Harry who kept himself busy putting the chess set inside its case. She recognized that case, and the Chuddly Canon stickers on it. It belonged to Ron. She looked away. She took a deep breath. "About last night -"

"It's okay, I understand. It won't happen again."

"Let me finish."

He set the case down beside the couch. "Right..."

She never felt more nervous talking to a friend before. Harry was her best friend, there was nothing she couldn't tell him. They had faced supposed murderers, gone back in time, broke into the Ministry, lived in a tent for a year, and killed fragments of Voldemort's soul. There was nothing that could come between them. She sat down next to him, her hands wringing themselves in her lap. She thought about taking his, but quickly decided that it would be an invasion of the space, and air she needed to breathe. She was nervous, and thought her throat had closed up, but she forced herself to speak, though it came out more as breaths. "About that kiss... I've never felt that way before... I liked it..."

He smiled. "I always thought you did."

She ignored his remark. She had to know something much more important. "Did I ever get over Ron?"

His smile fell, and he looked down at his trainers. "You remember the day Ron, and I got into that fight about Ginny? I told him that she didn't expect us to get married."  
"I remember," the words were sweet. She remembered something, granted there was no reason she wouldn't remember that day. It's only the events after the war. She had just gone back to her most tragic time: the death of her friends.

"The moment that I said it I saw her in a white dress marrying some horrible fellow. I wanted to marry her. I wanted her to wait for me, but it was unfair to ask her. My chances of surviving were slim, and if I didn't come back... I didn't want to cause her any more pain. For a long time - every day I wished I could've gone back, and forced her into the Room of Requirement. I never thought - not for a moment that I would've survive instead of her. Some days I wish I never met Ron, and it would have spared his entire family. But you were there for me. I saw you in a new light when I came out of that room. I knew I'd drown myself in misery long enough, and I needed to move on, everyone was telling me so. I thought that we could move on together. It felt right being with you, it was so easy loving you."

She felt her heart drumming against her ribcage. "Harry," she said quietly, and with hint of an unfinished question. When he looked up at her she saw an inconsolable look in his eyes. She broke the distance between them capturing his mouth. She felt him pull slowly back, but she held his neck holding him in. She wasn't going to let him go so easy.

His tongue wetted her lips sliding in her mouth, running along her own. They both groaned becoming closer, that warm sensation curling in the pit of her stomach. His hands massaging her arms, when suddenly they latched onto her shoulders thrusting her back. "Wait... We can't," his voice was low, husky, sexy.

"Why not?"

His face burned. "It'll be like taking your virginity again..."

Her face heated too. "Oh... So you know that I..."

He kissed her cheek. "I know everything, love."

She recalled her earlier reflections. It was now, or never, or until she gained her memory. "Do you want children?"

He looked taken-aback. "Um... Sure... I suppose," he stumbled clumsily on his words.

"We never talked about it?"  
"We want three, or at least two. Neither of us had siblings... What made you think about that? Teddy?"

"Was just wondering."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We were going to start trying the day when you had your accident."

She beamed. "We can try when I get my memory back. I _will_ get it back."

He smiled back at her sweeping her hair from her cheek tucking it behind her ear. "I believe you." He embraced her lovingly rubbing her back. "We'll get through this," he whispered in her hair, "we'll make it."

"I know... We've made it so far. I love you, Harry."

He sighed, breathing in her lavender scent. "I love you too, Hermione, but don't say that to me again."

She leaned away slightly, looking at him properly. "Why?"

"I want you to mean it the way I do. You don't." Seeing her face he shook his head, "don't apologize," he warned, "none of this is your fault." He glanced at his trainers once more. "I do have a question for you. Last night… Was that your first nightmare?"

"Yes... I don't know why. I suppose it's because I haven't had a proper night's sleep since being in St. Mungo's. I keep waking up in the middle of the night. I never gave myself a chance..." She gazed at him curiously. "Did you have...?"

"Every night."

"Stay with me again?"

"Every night," he repeated with a sly, yet oddly innocent grin.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Fireworks Display

The Burrow hadn't changed since she last remembered it. It still stood tall, and crooked, being held up by magic. There were clucking chickens parading in the front yard. Hermione thought that seeing it would make her feel sad, but it was actually a comfort. It felt like she was returning home. It must have been how she felt after the war.

"Are you sure you want to do this," Harry asked.

"I have to." This was the first step. She had to see her friends, and get back to her life. Minus her career that she was sure was a huge part of it, but the Healer was adamant that she could only return when her memory was back. She had to admit that it was for the best. She would be rather useless going to work when she had little knowledge of what to do. She did go through a lot of lessons to become a lawyer, but she couldn't remember going to one. She couldn't remember her decision to go through it at all.

Molly swung open the door, and cried happily, "Hermione, Harry! It's so good to see you! You could've apparated in the lounge." She hugged them both in turn, Hermione a little longer than Harry.

"Hermione wanted to see the outside of the house."

"Well, it hasn't changed much," she said, hands on her hips. "Speaking of change, Harry, Arthur has the bike ready in shed."

"The bike," Hermione inquired. "Sirius' bike?"

"He was making some improvements on it for me," Harry explained. "Faster speed, and enhancing the charm to keep Teddy a good distance away."

"Those are simple spells, you could've done all that."

"I was going to, but..." He trailed off, and Hermione understood. She lost her memory, and Harry handed the work over to Mr. Weasley so he could focus on her.

Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands, "lets get in then, shall we? I have dinner all prepared." She began naming every dish she cooked as they followed her inside the bustling house.

Arthur, thinner, and grayer, greeted them from the couch, but got to his feet hurriedly taking Harry off to the backyard to show him the bike rattling off the research he found on muggle mechanics. Hermione found Bill, and George in a game of Gobstones, and hugged them. Bill was unrecognizable from his younger self. A battle at Hogwarts left him with deep gashes in his face, his teeth a bit more pointed, and his hair wilder thanks to a bite from a particular horrible werewolf. Hermione then looked around for the one living person she knew should have been there. "Where's Fleur?"

Heavily, Bill sighed. "At her mother's, needed a break from -"

Suddenly the air was knocked out of Hermione's lungs as something tackled her around her knees making her legs buckle beneath her. When she looked down she saw a glowing girl with flowing white hair grinning ecstatically up at her.

"Who is this," Hermione asked in undertone not wanting to offend the tot.

"That's Victoire. Our daughter."

"Victoire," Hermione reiterate in an attempt to remember the name.

"Victoire, let her breathe," Bill laughed heartedly tugging her back a couple of steps. "Sorry about that."

"Quite all right," Hermione lowered herself down on her knees so she could be at eye level with the beautiful child.

"Miney," Victoire called her.

_Better than Hermy,_ Hermione thought hugging the stranger.

As the day drew on she got to know the child again, and learned that she was very delightful indeed. Not that she suspected otherwise, but it was someone who wasn't giving her sympathy looks. Victoire, like Teddy wasn't told about her current condition, and gave her ample opportunities to forget about it. Until Mrs. Weasley called everyone in for supper she played a game of Exploding Snap. She was amazed by the girl's intelligence, and announced to the red-headed family that she was defiantly going to be a Ravenclaw.

"You were the smartest witch in school, and you weren't," George pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, "because I asked the sorting hat to put me in the best house."

"You really are smart, Hermione."

She glared at him thinking he made a joke, but her expression softened when she saw he wasn't. George was truly more serious without his twin brother. It had to take a real toll on him, but she couldn't remember. Inwardly she cursed herself for not knowing. It all seemed so proverbial to her, yet it was too far away to reach. She turned her attention back to Victoire, and their game that she was losing by a great deal.

Halfway through the meal Hermione excused herself to the bathroom. She didn't have to go, but she needed to breathe. There was a lively chatter that she couldn't participate in, she kept dazing off. There was several empty chairs, one in particular was Ron's, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't tear her attention from it. Finally she did, making her getaway.

At the staircase she stopped. At the side were the Weasley family pictures. Looking behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed, or watched, she took a look at them. There were many of the boys, and Ginny growing up. One showed a two-year-old Ron that was scowling in a maroon sweater. Then she came to the photographs of their school days. A lot of them included Harry, and her with them. The newest ones, however, missed Ron, Fred, and Ginny. Harry, and her were too close to each other in them. One was of their wedding day, standing up at a toast Luna, and George were giving. She had always been touched that she was included on the "family wall." It only hurt now to see that not all of the Weasley's were present in the recent ones.

Drying her eyes she walked up the stairs, and turned into Ron's room. She hoped that Mr., and Mrs. Weasley didn't change it, and she saw that they didn't. Everything was still orange, the walls, the bedspread, and the moving posters everywhere supporting the Chuddly Canons. She smiled sadly to herself, and sat on his bed, it creaking under her small weight. She laid down, her feet dangling off the side. His scent was there. The sweet smell of his shaving cream, and shampoo.

"Hermione?"

She looked over to see George standing in the doorway. She sat up, suddenly embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I -"

"It's okay..." George sat beside her. "Lie back down, it's all right."

She did as he said, twirling a loose thread from the sheet around her finger. "I'm glad your parents didn't redecorate."

"Dad wanted to; mum refused. I'm glad they didn't either." He patted her shoulder in a brotherly manner. "He loved you, you know? Every summer all he could talk about was you."

"We kissed in the Room of Requirement. I was tired of waiting for him, so I kissed him. If I knew it would have been the last time..." She sniffed. "How are you doing this? You've lost two brothers, and your sister. How?"

"I think you know. You lost your first love, a brother, a sister, and your parents. I don't know how _you_ do it."

She nodded into the pillow. "You just go on..."

"Exactly, now come back downstairs. I'll get rid of the chair."

She stared at him without conviction.

"I saw you looking at it. I find myself doing it too. Come on now, come, and eat."

She let him help her to her feet, and together they went back to the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye she saw George nod at Harry. She pretended not to see this.

After supper George gathered everyone outside for a fireworks display. They boomed in the inky blackness of the sky. Red, white, blue, yellow. Some took on shapes of stars, crescent moons, lions, the infamous letter 'W' that was above Hogwarts when George, and Fred had made their grand exit from school. Harry, and her smiled knowingly at each other recalling that day with clarity, and with one arm he pulled her to him. She let him.

The fire continued to flash in the sky. Purple, orange, and then green. A bright green flash. Hermione blinked seeing it behind her eyelids, it danced violently, the screams in her mind echoing, and she stumbled backwards. She didn't notice she was the one screaming, raking her hands through her hair, pulling at it, half-expecting to feel blood. _Ron, Ginny, Ron, Ginny_, she went over, and over in her head like a mantra, as if it would rewind time.

"Hermione," Harry yelled catching her by the waist. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

Mrs. Weasley audibly gasped. "George, stop the fireworks now!"

The cracking of the fireworks stopped, and she heard George. "What's going on? She all right?"

"A flashback," Harry mumbled to the surrounding crowd. Hermione could see them, but she could also see Ron's horrified face, and Ginny's bleeding shoulder. She wanted it gone. She wanted it all gone.

"Hermione, you have to stay with me here."

She shook her head slamming her eyes shut. _Go away, please, make it go away._ She had no idea who she was pleading to. She didn't know whether she said it out loud or not. She didn't care. She wanted it gone. She wanted it to end. She wanted her memory back. She needed it back.

"Hermione, talk to me."

Hermione felt his arms securely around her. "I want to remember," she croaked. "I need to remember you - us. Please." She closed her eyes as he smoothed her hair back, the visions dimming, fading. Ron's face exchanging blurrily for Harry's.

"You will."

"What if I don't?"

"Don't talk that way," he hissed.

Tears leaked from the creases of her eyes. She was very conscious of the whole Weasley clan watching her. Mrs. Weasley was talking in a rush to her husband about St. Mungo's. She was a bit peeved at her fate being decided for her. There was no need to take her anywhere. She tried to concentrate on Harry. He was the only matter of importance then. "What if I don't?"

Harry tensed. "Later, lets get you home first." He picked her up, nodding to everyone in way of goodbye, and apparated his wife back to the bedroom of their home setting her on the bed with care.

"Don't leave me, Harry."

He laid beside her taking her hand in his, linking his fingers with hers. "Never, Hermione."

She was bursting with things that needed to be said then. She had to let him know what she was feeling. She was still shaking. Anything could happen, and if it did, he had to know. "I didn't want you to die, you know that, right? I wouldn't think of trading your life for Ron's."

He kissed her forehead. "I know that, love."

"Maybe this was how it was supposed to be..."

"That's what I believe."

"The two of us."

"Yes."

"I do love you. I really do. Don't tell me not to say it, because I will. I don't have all of our memories, but I love you, I know I do."

His lips lingered on her skin. "I love you too."

A/N: I don't know much about flashbacks, so I apologize if my version is wrong by medical standards. There was only so much medical studying I could do (I was never good at biology or science).


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Re-Dating

Harry had taken off work for three days. A favor given by Mr. Kingsley, his boss, a big man that once worked for the Order of the Phoenix, the group that stood against Voldemort. Harry proclaimed that they were going to take the three days, and revisit their first dates.

The first place he took Hermione was a muggle fast food restaurant. They sat outside on the benches eating out of a brown paper bag watching the cars go by. She loved it. They had all the money anyone could want, but they went there. When Hermione questioned him about this he told her it was because they both were raised by muggles, and neither of them were ones for places that sat more than one fork at the table. She fully agreed with this, and had the best time since she woke up in the hospital, their conversation flowing easily. There was no tension, much like the way they used to be.

The next day early in the morning he took her to a muggle park. They laid on a patchwork quilt under the shade of a large willow tree with a wicker basket pulling out sandwiches, and drinks. Hermione snuck a book in there when Harry wasn't looking, and began reading passages to him, but when she got to the second page he faked snoring which earned him a playful slap on the arm. They spent the rest of the day telling jokes, and watching the parents play catch with their children.

It was the day after that gave Hermione the biggest surprise. Harry told her they were going to Écouter, a fancy French restaurant run by wizards. While he dressed in the study, she was doing the same in their room. She pulled on a long silver sleeveless dress that hung in the back of her wardrobe, its hem barely sweeping the floor, holding her curves in its softness. She pulled her hair into a matching clip letting a few curls fall to the sides of her face. She added a touch of blush, and a light thin layer of gloss making her lips shine. A bit of magic was used for the dark circles under her eyes.

Harry, and her exited their rooms at the same time. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, his eyebrows raised. "Wow..." He breathed. "You look... Amazing."

She surveyed his black tux, and open robe, his crisp white button shirt showing through. It looked as though he tried to gel his hair back, but failed miserably as the fringe fell over his eyes. He stuck his hands in his pockets obviously wiping them on a cloth he carried.

"You look pretty good yourself."

He smiled weakly, and chivalrously held out his elbow for her to take which she did. In the lounge they ducked into the fireplace, disappearing in a blaze of emerald. They walked out with grace earned by all the years they have traveled by Floo.

The place took Hermione's breath away. Each of the walls contained beautiful hand painted murals. One of a little girl, with brown curls holding her mother's hand. Another of a man on his knees in the rain gazing up into the stormy sky. There were so many walls, and steps leading to higher tables that Hermione wished she had several more eyes to see it all.

A slender woman in a burgundy robe approached them, a couple of menus in hand. She led them past all the tables clothed in the same color as the waitresses, and waiters attire. They went inside another room. Like the one outside every one of the four walls had a separate mural. Different patronuses covered one, a frozen lake on another. She was pulled out of her observation when Harry pulled out a seat for her, and took his seat across from her. She realized that theirs was the only table there right in the center.

Once the waitress served them their water, and left to let them go over their orders Hermione leaned slightly over. "Harry... I thought we weren't ones to go to lavish restaurants."

"We're not," he said scanning his menu. "You see, there's only one fork."

"Very funny. Seriously..."

He glanced at her. "This is Fleur's restaurant."

Her mouth slightly parted in shock. "Fleur owns this place?"

"Yeah, and I might add do not order anything meat, unless you like a live cow on your plate."

"Still undercooks them?"

"Yeah, it's a popular place for werewolves, or half werewolf breeds."

"Like Bill..."

"Like Bill. This is also where I proposed to you."

Hermione grinned. "How did you do it?"

"What? You want like a recap?"

She shrugged. "I just want to know how you did it."

Clearly uncomfortable he placed his cloth on the table, and bent slowly to one knee beside the table. "I - I wasn't good at this the first time... Hermione... We've been through a lot. I helped saved you from a troll, and in return you helped me pass my classes with your extensive knowledge, and research, which lets be honest, I would've never done myself."

She giggled.

"I'm not going to repeat word-for-word what I said, because I can't remember. What I do know is that you said yes, and we gave each other our hands. We've spent our life happy, and though you can't recall any of it I'll spend another four years proving it to you. I love with you with everything I am, and more than anything, or anyone." He fished in his pocket, and withdrew a small red, and gold circular stone, a hole drilled into it where a silver chain ran through. "A year ago I gave you that engagement ring on your finger. This time I'm giving you the stone you picked up at the river. You kept it in your jewelry box, but I took it out shortly after to make it into a necklace for you. A reminder if you will of the day we fell in love, or at least first admitted it. I'd like to ask you again, Hermione, if you'll spend the rest of your life with me?"

She blinked back the tears in her eyes, and nodded. "Yes," she answered hoarsely.

He stood, and wrapped the necklace over her neck. The stone laid between her collarbones, warm to the touch from being in his pocket. She ran her fingers over it. Behind her chair Harry grazed the back of her bare neck, very gently kissing the supple spot under her ear. She turned, and he kissed her lips. He slid his hands down her sides holding her hips as he deepened it. Hermione craned her neck back her breathing becoming more labored, a tingling sensation starting at her toes, working its way up.

Then there was a short cough, and they broke apart to see their red-faced waitress. "Ready to order," she asked as Harry quickly took his seat, his cheeks scarlet.

That night Hermione knew why she married her best friend. It wasn't because their loves died. It wasn't because she was lonely. It was because she was in love with him. She was in love with Harry Potter.

_Forgive me, Ron, Ginny... I do love him, with or without my memory. Forgive me._

A/N: I orginially planned to expand the three dates over three chapters. However, it would've been pretty boring. There are four chapters left, so things will be moving on soon.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Fairy Spit

Harry returned to work just in time. He rushed around the next morning pulling on trousers, his trainers (without socks), and his robe explaining that there had been an owl, and Kingsley needed him immediately. There was something about a man who escaped from three Aurors trying to arrest him, and he had somehow gotten back his wand, and apparated. Hermione didn't understand it all, it was too early, the sun hadn't even risen, and she was drowsy. She was asleep again before he left.

Hours later she was dressed, and curled in the corner of the couch with a book in hand. She was getting tired of reading in the study, and she was beginning to get tired of reading in the lounge. Tomorrow she may start somewhere outside. A little fresh air would do her some good. She was tired of being trapped inside the house, but knew of nowhere to go. The environment was non-changing, and she felt sick staring at the same walls. It was like solitary confinement, only with better conditions.

She flipped a page, barely hearing the knock at the door. She figured it was her imagination, and was several paragraphs down when she heard it again. She sat the bookmark in place, and peeped through the hole in the door. She opened it immediately.

A girl with long blond tresses with a dazed look stood on her doorstep. She was looking up into the porch light until she heard Hermione exclaim, "Luna! What're you doing here?"

"Harry told me about your amnesia," she said simply, her voice as dreamy as her expression continuing to stare up at the light that wasn't even on for it was early afternoon.

Hermione half expected to hear a reason why she had lost her memory, something involving a bug, or a creature that didn't exist, but Harry had warned her of how Luna changed. She had discovered a couple of creatures thought to be instinct, and was ready to face that not everything her father told her was true.

"Come on in," she held open the door for Luna to step inside.

They took seats on the couch. Luna hummed softly to herself, but Hermione gently broke through this. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay... Harry owled me yesterday saying it was all right if I came to visit you. He thought you were ready."

"Right. I mean - I am. I'm ready. Where's Neville?"

"Working. Hogwarts is back in session."

"Oh, yeah."

"Yes... I think that some of us lose our memory in order to put things into perspective. To remember things that we may have forgotten."

This took her off-guard, and she shook her head thinking it through. "I'm not following," she concluded out loud.

"You love, Harry. He loves you. Together you forgot Ginny, and Ron."

Hermione felt her temperature rise in fast anger. "No we haven't! We haven't forgotten them!" How could she? It was all she could think about. How could Luna be so insensitive. That wasn't like her at all.

"No, maybe not forgotten them in memory, but you two pushed away thoughts of them... You fell in love during a vulnerable time."

"It wasn't just mourning!"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!"

Luna grinned, and Hermione felt undeniably stupid. She laughed. "Is that why you came here, Luna? To get me to confess it? I already have."

"Yes, but you still feel guilty."

She sighed leaning back in the couch. "How can I not," she asked helplessly. "It haunts me at night, and every time I kiss him it feels... Wrong, but... Amazing, and right. None of it makes any sense. It feels like yesterday that I was searching for Horcruxes, that I was kissing Ron in the Room of Requirement. I woke up, and my life has been on fast forward ever since. I missed huge parts of my life, and I have no idea how I ended up where I'm at."

Luna took her hand. "You lost your memory, and yet you still know that you love Harry. I think that says a lot."

"It wasn't just mourning," she repeated trying to convince herself. It wouldn't have been necessary if she could remember, but she couldn't.

"Of course not."

"I suppose Harry's the culprit for you coming here?"

"Don't be mad at him. He asked me to make sure that you weren't only empathizing with him. I think he's being rather silly about the whole ordeal. You are his wife after all, not everything would change. Deep down your feelings would be the same. I came here to pacify him... I have to say that you're not only empathizing with him..."

Hermione smiled at her. Harry was right. She was good at this kind of thing. "Good diagnosis."

She reached a hand inside of her cloak pulling out a small vial with pink liquid swishing at the bottom. "This is fairy spit. Took a long time to get her to sneeze, but I got it. It'll help you get your memory back. My father says that our great, great, uncle Herme's was cured of his amnesia, because of it."

She took the bottle from her peering closely inside. "Um thanks, Luna, I'll wait until Harry comes home to..." She trailed off not sure what she was supposed to do with it. She couldn't very well _pretend_ that she did know. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Drink it."

Her face contorted in disgust, but she quickly forced it into a look of amusement. "Right, of course," she laughed. "I've missed you, Luna."

"I've missed you too, and I'll tell you again when you come back."

It was late in the evening, and Hermione was still talking with Luna. Then Junus, their Tawny brown owl flew in through the open window in the kitchen. He dropped an envelope on her lap.

"Open it," Luna advised, but at that time it was already ripped open.

_Hermione,_

_I'll be gone for a few days. Don't worry, this is procedure, but don't write back. I'll be home as soon as I can._

_Harry_

"He's not coming home," Hermione said mostly to herself as she scanned the short note again.

"He's been gone before."

"He has?"

Luna nodded, "nothing to be worried about. Do you want me to stay?"

"No... I'll be okay, but thanks."

Late in the evening Luna left. Once she was sure that she apparated, Hermione threw the fairy spit into the rubbage bin. Luna might have improved loads since her school days, but some things don't change so easily. There was no way that fairy spit could cure amnesia, and once the vial was disposed of she tried to finish her book outside in the fresh air. Instead she watched the sun sink below the grassy hills hoping that Harry was okay. He survived seven years of murderous people after him, and she shouldn't worry. He could take care of himself, but if something happened to him, what would she do? She couldn't stand that thought.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The Break In

It had been three days. Hermione had never felt so lonely before. Waking up without Harry beside her made her wonder how she ever got along without him. She didn't know how she ever stood waiting by, and questioning his safety. It was torture. At night she cuddled close to his pillow that carried his scent, and in the day she read. She finished an entire bookcase. There were three more to go. It was her goal, it kept her as occupied as she could be.

In the kitchen she was fully dressed in jeans, and a shirt, her hair back in a bun. She fiddled with the knobs on the cooker setting pots, and pans on top of it. Harry had left plenty of food behind for her, but she was determined to learn how to cook, or at least cook well. By the time Harry came back she would be an accomplished chef, and he would rue the day he ever gagged on her food. She grinned at the thought of the look on his face as she set a ragged cooking book propped against the wall on the counter.

The flipped through the first chapter of breakfast recipes. All of those were too complicated. In her life she had brewed some very complicated potions, but never had she been able to add that concept of adding ingredients, and stirring to muggle cooking. By reading the recipe she could tell which one would burn the food, or the house down, which one would explode, and/or catch fire. If there was any talent she had in the kitchen it was knowing what accident would befall a certain attempt. She stopped at a page of something that looked simply enough. The worst case scenario would be a small fire that she could get under control. She had to start somewhere.

She had the teapot in hand when the window left of her shattered, and so did the teapot, glass surrounding her feet. Instinctively she cowered her head in her arms, and looked up carefully to see a skinny dark hooded figure by the door next to the broken window. Her breath caught, and she reached back for her wand, but as she did the figure ran towards her tackling her roughly to the floor like a professional rugby player.

She howled in pain her shoulder colliding with the corner of the island, her arm bent oddly beneath her, and the glass cutting into her flesh. The man didn't let up his weight, he was crushing her, and she wheezed to get her breath back. Her wand was lodged in her pocket digging into her bum, and back, and she couldn't retrieve it. She did what all muggle adults say to do. She screamed hoping the neighbors could hear, and he smacked her across the cheek with the back of his hand. It rattled her brain, her face stinging, and bruised. It was only moments ago that she was getting a cup of tea, how could something such as this happen so quickly? What was going to happen to her? She felt like her heart had left her chest to beat someplace else.

"Shut up you stupid girl," he hissed, his voice low, and hoarse. "Tell me, where is your husband? Where is Harry Potter?"

She thought fast, a roaring in her ears. "He's here. He's upstairs - in our room." Would he believe it? He had to, she was suffocating.

He reached behind him withdrawing a knotty old wand. He pressed it at the base of her throat. "Then I suppose he'll come down if he hears his wife screaming."

"Who are you," she asked hoping to engage him in something other than torture.

"I'm your worst nightmare."

It was cliché, and at any other time she would have laughed, but she could hardly find the humor in it, especially when her clothes were soaking her blood. It wasn't true anyhow - what he said. Her worst nightmare was her friend's death. No matter what she saw in the future nothing would compare.

"You might want to try telling a bit of truth now dear."

"I'm not lying. I swear, he's up there. Go, and check if you don't believe me -"

"You think I'm going to believe that?" He chuckled darkly. "I think he should come here... Call him."

She inhaled a shaky breath. "There was an accident on his job. He's temporarily deaf -"

"Liar! You're lying - you bitch! I guess I'll have to make you scream for him. Or scream for me to stop..."

She gathered the little spit she had in her dry mouth, and spat it into his face, it splattering across his cheek. "Jerk!"

Slowly he wiped it away, and in a flash hit her harder across the face. White spots clouded her vision, and she blinked several times to rid them. She felt like she would see her brain beside her it rung so bad.

"Someone's got to teach you manners, Mrs. Potter. I knew mudbloods were filthy animals, but hell, you bring them into a whole new category."

Before she could retort there was the sound of an up roaring fire dying as soon as it came from behind her, there was the rustle of clothes, and footsteps, and Harry's voice. She cried, not from the pain, but of relief. He had come. She knew he would. She moved her head just enough to catch a glimpse at him in the doorway. Macnair did the same.

"Drop your wand!" Harry stood in the kitchen doorway, his wand pointing steadily at the figure above her.

The man laughed maniacally. "I'm not the dark lord, _Mr._ Potter. What d'you think you're going to do?"

"There are thirty Auror's surrounding this house, and you can't apparate out. Drop your wand, Macnair."

Macnair... That sounded all too familiar to her, but it couldn't be true. Macnair died in the final battle at Hogwarts. She attempted to squirm out, but he pressed down on her, and there was a definite crack beneath her, a sharp pain, a blinding pain that made tears leak from her eyes. Her arm broke.

"Do you think your fast enough? Do you think you can save your wife? You weren't able to save your friend, and girlfriend. I can make it quick for the mudb -"

"Shut up! You have no place to go. I'm warning you one last time, drop your wand."

"I saw it happen, you know. Does she know what you did?" He glanced at her expression, and chuckled. "No. She doesn't. Shall I -"

There was a bright red light in session with a bang, a groan, and more footsteps. The weight was lifted, and Hermione painfully breathed. Her lungs ached, her arm broken. She laid there, concentrating on evening her breaths, tilting her head to see Harry kneel beside the figure.

Two Auror's came charging through the door, it crashing, and bouncing against the wall. One was very young, almost as young as her, and shaking. He was obviously new to the job. The other was much older with snowy white hair, his features wrinkled with age.

"We finally got him," the old man said proudly, his voice gruff. "Go see to your wife, Harry, we'll take him."

Macnair was dragged to his feet, his hood pulled off in the process. The resemblance to the Macnair Hermione remembered was startling. However, this man was young, but he had the same cold steel-like eyes, and the same lean, skinny built.

"No! Ask him how your dear friends died! Ask him what happened that night! He's a murderer! A Murderer! No," he yelled all the way out the door until they apparated.

Harry was sickly pale, but he was next to her in seconds examining her worriedly, scanning her face, neck, chest, stomach, and legs. Her arm was clearly damaged, and he didn't dare move it. He stroked her forehead, pushing back her hair. He was shaking.

The whole event sent her in a haze of physical agony, but she heard what Macnair said, and she didn't believe it, but there was something in Harry's appearance that told her otherwise, and she forced herself to focus. There was something she wasn't being told.

"What was he talking about, Harry?"

He sighed in a way that told her he didn't want to talk about it then, that there were more important things to worry about. "Hermione -"

"Tell me!"

He avoided her gaze, staring down at the floor. "He's Macnair's nephew. The man's mad, you can't take what he says seriously!"

She shook her head, careful to avoid the glass that glittered like the sea around them. "You've never lied to me. Please, don't start now."

His tone was strained, and broken. "I killed them, Hermione... I killed our friends. Don't - Don't ask any more of me right now. We need to get you to St. Mungo's."

"Harry," she started as he scooped her tenderly in her arms, but sucked in a breath as a sharp pain shot down the arm that was lodged beneath her. It hung limply, and she looked away, her head spinning. "No," she concluded through gritted teeth. "No... No... No..."

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"No..." It wasn't true.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The Truth

Because of Hermione's over-protective, and newly-employed Healer, Harry was forbidden to visit her until her countless cuts, and fractured arm healed. She wasn't happy about this, but she was lucky that these were the only injuries she sustained, and that Harry was alive.

According to the Daily Prophet she insisted be brought to her, Macnair had been running from the Auror's for quite some time. He was in love with Bellatrix Lestrange, and when she was killed he went straight for Harry, even though it was Mrs. Weasley that killed her. Harry was blamed for everything. For being a muggle-lover, for being the boy-who-lived, and the reason Voldemort was defeated which made him become the boy-who-lived-twice.

The one thing that cheered her up was to see that she wasn't placed alone in a room this time. There were three other beds, each hidden by a white curtain. She knew there was a blonde witch there whose brother-in-law turned her into a cockroach, and she kept scurrying under the blankets when the lights went off. Another witch, an elderly lady had a fight with a biting book from Flourish and Botts. Hermione's first thought was the biting book the Hogwarts gamekeeper, and her friend gave them their third year, his first year teaching Care of Magical Creatures. Luckily for everyone those books had been discontinued, so the book the witch had must have been put under a dark spell.

Hermione slipped on her robe over her muggle attire when Harry walked in with a bouquet of red roses. She gave a weak smile that made the corner of his twitch, but otherwise had no effect. He still looked sick, and tired.

She didn't believe that he had any part in Ginny, and Ron's death. She refused to believe it. He was always willing to take the responsibility for the deaths that took place around him. None of them was his fault, with the exception of Voldemort. He would never kill his friends. She knew this as well as she knew that she wouldn't mistreat a houself, or that Chuddly Canon's would never win a game. Even with her negligible knowledge of the sport of Quidditch, she knew that.

"Thank you," she took the flowers from him lying them on the bed gently so she could take a final look in the bag Harry dropped off that contained her necessities, like clothes, and her toothbrush.

He only nodded.

She abandoned her search rushing to hug him. She squeezed him tightly, his arms slinking around her waist. She thought she might never let go, but she did. "We need to talk," she said.

"Yeah, we do."

"I know that their deaths weren't your fault."

He shut his eyes, probably to hide the roll of his eyes. "Yes, they are."

She rolled her eyes visibly. "What happened?"

Harry collapsed on the bed, hands between his knees. He suddenly looked ages older. "It was hard enough telling you the first time. I don't want to again."

She sat next to him. "Try?"

Taking a breath he began. "When I saw Bellatrix, I tried stunning her, but she dodged it, and the spell hit the wall. It was shaking bad already, but that one spell made it worse - made the wall crumble. That's why that rock fell on you. I fell, so did Ginny. Ron was the only one standing, and he was... The first..." Harry bent low, his elbows on his knees to hide his watery eyes. "He fell on top of you, and you were shielded. Bellatrix turned the wand to Ginny. It happened so fast. I was right beside her... I should've blocked it - I had my wand. Should've done something, but she was... Gone..." He heaved in a breath. "That's when Mrs. Weasley came by, and killed her."

Hermione laid a comforting hand on his. "Oh, Harry, it wasn't your fault. It was an accident. They wouldn't -"

"Want me to blame myself," he finished for her. "I know. You told me that after the battle - at least after the shock wore off."

Hermione smirked sadly leaning on his shoulder. "I suppose some things don't change."

He didn't seem to be listening, he gazed at his hands as though they held the answer to all of his problems, something that he frequently made fun of their Divination professor for believing in. "If I had done things differently... I wonder if they'd still be..."

"Don't dwell on it," she demanded quickly. "It's not healthy. It wasn't your fault, you know that."

"Because of me -"

She felt her temper rise, sick of hearing him place all the blame on himself like he had done since they were eleven. "Because of Bellatrix! Because of Voldemort! It was never because of you! We fought because we wanted to! If Voldemort were still here we'd all be dead anyway. You, me. Everyone! We all knew what we were getting into! Everyone did it because we care about you, about the future."

Harry looked intently at her as if she were his last friend on Earth. His eyes shined, his breath quick. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but closed it. He leaned towards her slowly, almost questioningly.

Hermione inclined forward, her own breath rapid. She didn't realize how hard they had been arguing, they were both red in the face. Flushed. She felt the eyes behind the curtains staring at their shadows. She forced herself to keep a straight face as she thought she might as well give them a show. She brushed Harry's cheek with her fingertips, feeling the growing whiskers. They were millimeters apart, his peppermint breath on her lips.

"Hermy!"

They both jumped, and saw Andromeda at the door Teddy on her hip. "I'm sorry! We'll come back later. I'm sorry!"

"No, it's all right Mrs. Tonks. Hello, Teddy." Hermione grinned as Teddy jumped from his grandmother's grasp running into her arms.

Harry patted the boys sunshine yellow hair, greeting Andromeda. "I know today's usually the day we have him. If Hermione's up for it, we'll take him home with us now. I've put up extra wards just in case," he added. "No one'll be able to enter now."

Hermione nodded in agreement as Teddy begged his grandmother, "oh please, nana?"

Andromeda looked to Hermione. "If you're feeling well dear, then yes, I'd be very grateful. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you."

Harry stood. "C'mon then, lets get you two home."

* * *

"Hermy, tell me a story."

Hermione pulled the blankets over Teddy settling him in bed for the night. She yawned widely covering her mouth. She was amazed that the boy was still awake, much less up to hearing a story. Harry took him for a flight on the Firebolt, while she watched safely from the ground. The way Harry was with him made her realize how great of a father he was going to be. She glanced over at him sitting next to Teddy's legs. He looked as tired as she felt his entire expression windblown, leaning against the walls, his eyes half open.

"Do you want your favorite," she asked.

"No, tell me a new one."

"Okay..." She glanced around the room hoping to gain inspiration. It wasn't likely she was going to get any from the stuffed animals, and posters of Quidditch teams. She looked back to him, and the way he rose his brows expectantly, she saw his father. She grinned. She knew of just the story. "There was once this little boy. He was outside playing one day when this mean wolf jumped out of nowhere, and bit him."

Teddy gasped, and Harry opened his eyes fully. He knew where she was going with this, and listened just as intently as she told the story of Reamus Lupin, Teddy's father.

"The boy was now a werewolf. Once a month, he would painfully transform, and howl at the moon. This was before the creation of Wolfsbane, a potion to keep a werewolf's mind of that of a human, so he was completely wild. Because of this he couldn't attend Hogwarts like other kids, but then a wonderful man became headmaster, and made it possible for the boy. It was there that he met his three best friends..."

Teddy fell asleep halfway through the story, and Hermione stopped at telling about how Snape barely escaped death satisfied with how badly the boy tried to keep awake. She would tell him the rest another time. She tucked the covers under him, and kissed his forehead suddenly feeling very maternal.

"You're going to make a lovely mother," Harry whispered, cracking an eye open at her.

"You're awake?"

"Been awake. You had me riveted."

"You know the story."

"Yes, but seeing that tyke's face was worth hearing it again."

Hermione laughed quietly turning her attention back to Teddy. "It's not fair you know... He won't ever know his parents."

"Yes he will. We'll tell him everything he needs to know."

"You know that's not good enough."

"That's all we have to give."

She huffed. "Stories..." She wiped away a tear. "You know our children won't have any grandparents, or uncles, or aunts..."

He leaned forward rubbing a thumb over her cheek directing her to look at him. "Our children will have grandparents. They will have grandma, and grandpa Weasley. They will have four uncles, two aunts, and a cousin. Teddy will practically be a brother to them. They will have a huge family. We settled this long ago, Hermione, you remember this. It was way before the war. Blood doesn't matter, love does, and they will be loved."

"It's just not fair."

"Nothing's been fair, love."

She held his hands. "I'm tired of being sad, and angry. It feels like it'll never go away."

"It will."

He tugged her to him, embracing her tightly. His nose buried in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent, his thumb massaging circles on her lower back. Neither of them wanted to let go, but they did returning to their bedroom where they laid to sleep in each other's arms.

A/N: There was a mistake in labeling the chapters (I'm not sure how it happened), and in correction there are three more. I apologise.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Ministry Letter

"Hermione...? Love, wake up."

She jerked awake, her back aching as though she hadn't moved all day, and her book slipping from her fingertips to the ground. She looked wildly around seeing that she was outside in the same white wicker chair. It was dark, and cold, she could hear a crickets song far off in the distance, and see fireflies dancing around her glowing yellow. She wondered aimlessly how she could have slept in such a position. Harry was gently shaking her shoulder, making sure she was conscious.

She rubbed her eyes. "What time is it," her voice croaked. She coughed trying to clear it.

He checked his watch, but couldn't see it, so he shrugged, and said "it's late. You fell asleep."

"Oh..." She picked up her book, and stood with a little help from Harry. He held onto her arm, and let go when she was steadied. "Did you just get home?"

"Yeah... It was a late night..."

For the past couple of days there had been a lot of late nights for him. She suppose he was filling out a lot of paperwork on Macnair's attacks, but she would never ask him about it. Every night he would come home lethargic, and she let him go to bed no matter how much she was craving conversation. Luna was in Rome discovering new species, Neville was busy with teaching his Herbology lessons, and if she went to the Weasley's she'd have to hear Mrs. Weasley lure her into a discussion about her "condition." She'd rather reach her goal at reading all of the books in the study by the end of the month.

Silently they went inside the kitchen, she saw him solemnly lay an envelope down on the island. Hermione craned her neck slightly over him to see that it was blank. There was no address.

"What's that?"

He picked it back up handing it to her. "Kingsley gave it to me before I left. It's for you actually. The Ministry officials wants you to testify for the hearing of Macnair tomorrow."

She opened it, and unfolded the letter. She scanned the formalities, and nodded. "Okay then."

He stared curiously at her. "Are you sure you're up to go? I can pull a few strings to get you out of it."

Hermione huffed impatiently. "I want to go. They asked for me, and I have a responsibility. You shouldn't be using your position to -"

"Okay, okay," he waved his hand at the beginnings of one of her famous rants, "I get it, but they will be notified of your -"

"Don't call it a condition," she warned pointing a finger at him.

"Ummm..."

"There's a proper word for it, and it's amnesia."

"Okay, love." He swatted her hand down, and stretched, and yawned. He took the letter from her moving to throw it into the rubbage bin when he spotted the vial. "Hey, Hermione? What is this?"

She laughed quietly. "Fairy spit." She almost forgot that Luna had been to see her. It felt like ages ago, though the conversation was still fresh in her mind, she hadn't talked with Harry about it yet.

"Luna's been here?"

_There's no time like the present,_ she thought to herself. "Yeah, and she said that she doesn't think that I'm only empathizing with you." She didn't mean for it to sound antagonizing, but that was how it came out.

He glanced nervously at her. "Oh... She told you about that, then?"

She grabbed his hand pulling him towards her. "Yes, she told me. How could you even think that?"

He didn't met her eyes, focusing on the hand she was holding. "You don't remember us... I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

"When have I ever felt sorry for you?"

He nodded, "okay, okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told Luna to check up on you. Every time you say you love me I think for one sheer moment I have my wife back... But I don't. You don't mean it that way."

"I do love -"

"Not in that way!"

"Don't you think I see it," she asked desperately, a little angry at his denial of her feelings, or lack of. "I see it in those photos, I see it when you look at me, and I feel it when you kiss me. I know I do."

"You don't feel it like I do..."

She felt like crying. She was crying way too much lately, her eyes physically hurt, and her head pounded. "I will. I will get my memory back! I'm tired of this conversation, Harry! I'm tired of going over this again, and again. Why can't you understand that I'm trying?"

"You're tired? I'm tired of waking up without my wife!"

It was like a knife in her gut. Saying that his words stung her couldn't compare to how it felt. "I'm sorry," she bellowed. "I'm sorry I can't remember! If you want me gone so badly just say so -"

"No," he yelled back, but not out of anger. It sounded like panic. "I don't want you to leave. Hermione, you don't know what it's like to be married to someone who's in love with someone else. It's hell. It feels like you're cheating on me the way you're thinking about him all the time. Merlin knows you don't feel the same about me anymore."

"I'm in love with _you_!"

"You're not -"

"I am," she lashed out at him furiously her hands ramming into his chest. He bounced from the island, and she threw herself to him crashing her mouth on his. She tugged on his shirt as she pressed harder. The harder she pressed the more he would understand. She had to make him understand. She was possibly bruising both of their lips.

Soon he was kissing back grabbing her hips roughly bringing them back, her back hitting the counter she had left. His hand swept her cheek to grasp the back of her neck. They both moaned into each other, and he lifted her effortlessly to sit on the counter her legs wrapping around his hips. He broke away taking off his glasses dropping them with a clatter somewhere next to them, but soon was snogging her once more, his tongue running along the roof of her mouth. She tasted a unique blend of peppermint, and Butterbeer.

The fire in the pit of her stomach was fed with kisses, and caress, and it burned all the way to her heart. She was content, happily content. This was where she wanted to be. She missed Ron, she loved him, she always would, but Harry was there with her, and perhaps it was him all along, only she couldn't see it. Now she could.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

The Trial

Upstairs she rifled through her wardrobe for something appropriate to wear. She was going to the court case of Macnair. The Ministry asked her specifically given that she was one of his victims. She had to give a full report on what happened, and she went over it in her mind, writing it down, memorizing it. She wanted it to be perfect, she didn't want to be sitting in front of a bunch of old Ministry officials, and suddenly go blank. She was a lawyer, but how good were her instincts? She didn't want to find out.

She dressed in a knee-length blue skirt, a matching blazer, with her hair back into a French braid. She remembered how her mother used to do it for her. The memory caused an empty space to appear in her otherwise full stomach of Harry's delicious breakfast.

She went down to the lounge, and saw him in his black Auror robe waiting for her. Reassuringly he smiled, and took her hand. Throwing in some powder they ducked into the flames.

The Atrium in the Ministry of Magic hadn't changed much. The walls, and floors were still a shiny black they gleamed as the fireplaces lined against them lit up, and officials stepped out. The crinkle of paper airplanes flew over their heads (the Ministry's way of sending notes without the mess of owls).

Harry held tight to her hand as they moved their way through the bustle. They passed a fountain that Hermione didn't recognize. In its place used to be a fountain of a wizard, and witch with an elf, centaur, and goblin looking up admiringly at them, water spurting from different points in it. Now it seemed to be replaced by a very muggle looking fountain, glistening gold specks in the flowing water. She assumed for a second that it was rebuilt from the incident of their adventure in their fifth year when they came to save Sirius.

"You did that," Harry murmured in her ear. "You fought to change it."

Hermione looked up at him shocked, and smiled with him. She never asked Harry about her cases, she had no idea if she was any good, or not. If she made a difference at all. At least she knew that she had done some good within the Ministry. That ought to count for something.

They strolled under the arches, and after having her wand checked by a skinny man with many pimples they went into the lift. They must have been in there for a good five minutes until they reached their stop. The air was chilling, and she suspected that they were deep underground. It reminded her of the dungeons in Hogwarts.

They stopped outside of double steel doors that sung openly at their approach. Harry released her hand as they entered. He went to sit with Mr. Weasley, George, and Luna in the front row bench beside the solitary seat in the center of the circular room. She gave them a small wave, and sat in the seat. All around her were benches filled with a grouping of fifty people wearing purple robes with a silver 'W' on the left of the chest.

In front of her was a huge dark man behind a podium. Mr. Kingsley. Slyly he winked at her as he shuffled a stack of papers.

Next to him was a chair draped in thick chains that clanged loudly as the man in the tried to escape. Macnair looked mad, as if he'd been in Azkaban for years at a time. Fear shone in his wide eyes at the sight of her flickering over to her husband sitting very at ease with their family.

Mr. Kingsley cleared his throat, and began. "The accused, Maverick Teague Macnair, and victim Hermione Jean Potter are present for the verdict of said accused for the offenses..." He rattled off countless crimes. Hermione sucked in an inaudible breath as he turned page, after page of the transgressions. "Interrogators: Shacklebolt Kingsley, Minister of Magic; Michael Brian Creevey, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Daniel Vance Lambert, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Amelia Susan Bones, Court Scribe, and there are no witnesses for the defense."

Hermione glimpsed over at Harry, and he nodded encouraging her. She sat straight, and smoothed out her skirt crossing her ankles under her chair.

"Mrs. Potter, would you please tell the court how you were attacked."

Taking a deep breath she told of the broken window, how his hood covered his face, even the broken teapot. She told everything about that day. It was easy to do, she kept her eyes on Mr. Kingsley's kind face, not to mention she remembered every detail so clearly. The only part she didn't mention was Macnair's unrelenting yelling that Harry was a murderer. It had little to nothing to do with the case. Macnair was just trying to cause a distraction so he could have a chance at killing Harry. When she was done, she relaxed not realizing how tense she was to begin with.

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter."

The sentence was a breeze. There wasn't a person in the benches that didn't raise their hand for him to be sentenced in Azkaban for life. Macnair looked wildly around for some support, for any hand to stay down, and when he saw that there was none, he cried. He screamed. "No! NO!"

Two giant guards stepped forward when the chains released him. They firmly grabbed his arms attempting to pull him away, his feet lifting from the floor. He wrestled uselessly with the men, but managed to snatch ones wand from his pocket.

Hermione was standing ready to greet Harry when they turned to see what was happening. Harry yelled, "Hermione," and jumped over the small wall separating them.

There was a bright light, and she was flung backwards. She collided with the wall in back of her, her head bouncing off of it with a sickening crack, and fell into a heap on the floor. The light from the wand was long gone, but there was still brightness in front of her, flashing in her eyes. Her head felt like it was split open, and she wouldn't have been surprised if it was bleeding.

Like a dam opened for the first time, a flood of memories erupted. The block was broken. She was remembering.

The door was closed, a camp bed set outside of it. Hermione sat there patiently waiting for her friend to answer her pleas. She begged him to come out, to talk with her. She gave a long speech on how things weren't his fault. She leaned against the wall beside it, and waited. She waited for days - a week, and then the door opened. Harry stood there, hair long, face gaunt, darkness highlighting his eyes. He was thin, even for him. She stood shakily to her feet as he pulled her to him, and he kissed her. They pressed against each other. It was like being under water for too long, and breathing fresh air, a fresh start, something new, and something wonderful.

The water came up halfway to her shins pushing past her. Harry waded his feet in the water sitting on the grassy bank, a bottle of Butterbeer in his hand. Beneath the water she saw a red, and gold stone. It was smooth to the touch, and she flipped it over in her hand. _Beautiful_, she thought, _appropriate_. She handed it to Harry who looked at it interestingly.

Harry, Teddy, and her were in the backyard of their home. Harry was across the yard in a crouch, and Hermione was positioned the same from the other end, Teddy in the middle looking to his left, and to his right contemplating which way he should go. He went to the left, and Harry ran to him, blocking his way, and Hermione went to the right when he tried to backtrack. They pinned him between them, and tickled him. The three of them fell on the ground in fits of laughter.

Sheathed in a gold gown, and Harry in a black suit he bent to one knee beside the table that she sat. They were in the same restaurant they had their date. He brought out a small black box opening it to reveal a sparkling white gold solitaire engagement ring. As she nodded vigorously he tried to place it on her finger. He was trembling so badly though that he dropped it. When he tried the second time, he got it. He kissed her gently, tears springing in both of their eyes.

A white dress embedded with delicate designs of flowers. Harry waited for her at the end of the aisle, a smile that took up most of his features.

Tucking Teddy in bed, he looked to her meaningfully, an unasked question. She nodded.

Hermione cracked her eyes open, the scene swimming in blurred colors above her. She heard Harry's voice, "Hermione! Hermione, answer me! We're going to St. Mungo's, love. Stay awake."

"Mmm," she answered. "You asked."

"What?"

"You wanted children. You asked. Not me." She wasn't sure why this was significant. She didn't know why it mattered, or why she thought she was the first to ask. It didn't matter.

"I - I never told you that."

"No..."

"Hermione?"

She groaned shutting her eyes. "Remember?"

"Yes... _You_ remember?"

"Yeah..."

"You remember... Hermione, stay awake, please."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Remembering

Hermione was now officially sick of the white walls, white beds, and the Healers. She wanted to go home. She had no idea why she was even there, all she knew was that she was sick of the hospital. She didn't know why, it felt like she had been there more times than she actually was.

A Healer with strawberry blond hair, and rosy cheeks ambled into the room with her clipboard scrawling notes on it. She looked up, and grinned wide, "well, good morning, Mrs. Potter," she greeted cheerily.

"Good morning."

"I'm Healer Courtney."

She nodded. "Where's my husband, Mr. Harry Potter?"

"He's been made to sit in the waiting room while I get your results." She took out her wand waving complicated patterns through the air over her, and then went on to check her pulse, and other vital signs. "Yes, yes," she mumbled under her breath, "all seems to be in order."

"Thank you," Hermione said impatiently. "Can Harry come in now?"

"I see no reason why not."

"Thank you," she said again as Healer Courtney left the room.

Hermione situated her pillow under her more comfortably. She pulled on her hospital gown as it had twisted sometime through the night. She covered herself up better with the white sheet. She combed through her wild curls with her fingers.

Harry peeked his head in, and smiled the biggest smile since their wedding. He came in at a run gathering her in his arms winding her though his hold was gentle like she was made of glass, and he was afraid he would break her with the slightest touch. She gasped hugging him back.

"Harry, are you okay?"

He pulled back looking into her eyes. That would be an understatement of how he was looking at her. He was looking in her as if expecting someone else to be there.

"Harry," she called his name again anxiously, "what's wrong?"

"Who are you?"

"What?"

He smirked. "Who are you?"

"Hermione Jean Potter. Your wife. Your best friend." Her brows scrunched up thoughtfully. "Do you think I'm under the Imperius curse? We met when were eleven on the Hogwarts Express, you, and Ron were sharing a compartment; I came in looking for Neville's toad."

His eyes bore into hers in dire need. "What else?"

"Halloween that year you two saved me from a troll in the girls lavatory." She took his face in her hands. "Harry...? You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

His lovely green eyes shined. "I don't mean to scare you. I... What's the last thing you remember?"

"You, and Teddy were having lunch. I went upstairs to take a quick shower, and I walked out of the room..." She thought hard. That was right, him, and Teddy were having lunch, and after playing with them in the backyard she had become dirty, and went to take a shower. She was dressed, and was walking out of their room. That was when things got hazy. It was like looking through a thick fog. Something came afterwards, but she couldn't make it out. Her hands dropped from his face. "I don't remember anything after that. What happened?"

"You don't remember anything after?"

"No, I don't," she heard the small hysteria in her tone. Something terrible must have happened for Harry to be acting that way. She felt like she should have known, but it was too far away, not even close to her fingertips to try to grasp.

He sighed heavily, and fell into a chair beside the bed. He looked like a man that had been carrying the world on his shoulders for too many years. The state of his wrinkled clothes, the shadow of stubble on his jaw, he appeared not to have slept in so long.

"Harry," she pressed.

He stared at her hand, and took it with his running his thumb over her knuckles. "Teddy left his broomstick by the stairs, and you fell."

"I told him not to leave his toys lying around!"

He laughed humorlessly. "You hit the floor pretty hard... When you woke up you didn't remember anything but... But the war. The last memory you had was..."

"Ron, and Ginny," she finished for him. He nodded. Hermione didn't need to hear about what happened in the time she lost her memory. "I was horrible, wasn't I?"

He shrugged.

"Don't spare my feelings, Harry."

"It was worse than any nightmare I've had. It was a different kind of pain that I felt. You were still you. You were still Hermione, you were still my best friend, but... You weren't my wife. You didn't love me, you loved... You thought about him; you dreamt of him. He occupied every bit of you that I didn't have claim to anymore, and... I never hated my friend more," he choked. "I hated myself for hating him, but it was like this was his way of saying that he didn't approve of us. His way of taking you back."

Hermione squeezed his hand, trying to force the tears back. "That's not true. Ron loves us. He wants us to be happy. He's happy for us, we know this."

He nodded. "I know, but... I couldn't help but think it."

"It was an accident. I can't imagine what you... I'm so sorry, Harry." The tears spilled over. "I know I didn't make it easy on you. Oh, I'm so sorry."

He stood leaning over her. He pressed his lips to her forehead wiping her tears with his fingers. "Don't be sorry," he breathed his hot breath on her. "You're right, it was an accident."

"I love you, Harry. I don't know how I ever forgot you."

"It feels so good… To hear you say my name like that again." He kissed her harder. "I love you, Hermione. It's okay. It's all okay now. We're together."

They held each other. They cried together for the lost time, the dredged memories, the worry, the anxiety, and another chance to make memories. They were no longer lost.

A/N: I knew when I began writing this story that it would be about her memory loss, not about getting her memory back though I knew it would happen towards the end. It's not the happiest story to be writing, or perhaps reading, but I hope that you took some liking to it. I apologize again if my medical descriptions are off, I did try to study this condition.

Thank you for the reviews I love knowing what the readers think.


End file.
